


Second Chances

by Apollostowel



Series: Second Chances [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, Romance, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-23 09:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3763204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apollostowel/pseuds/Apollostowel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Second chances are rare, even more so when you keep getting them. This story takes place immediately after the events of Last Christmas, and explores the idea of what happens when you're finally ready to let down your walls, and see just how far trust and honesty can take you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_"Well, look at you, all happy. That's rare."_

_"Do you know what's rarer? Second chances. I never get a second chance, so what happened this time? Don't even know who to thank."_

_The Doctor and Clara ran into the Tardis together, it soon dematerialised._

* * *

Still holding Clara's hand, the Doctor absent-mindedly pressed a button that remembered favorite locations, this one hovering above the earth, out-of-range of all known means of being detected. He had needed to fire up the Tardis quickly, in case Clara changed her mind, or in case the dream crabs or Santa made a reprise. He needed to do anything that would keep this moment alive. He was keenly aware of Clara's hand in his, as his thumb lightly traced the back of hers. She squeezed his in return.

After the dreams within dreams, the walls keeping them apart torn down with such finality, the Doctor had no more inhibitions keeping him from declaring his true feelings for Clara, at least to himself. Such inhibitions were suddenly and firmly a thing of the past. Every argument against relationships suddenly sounding like so much self-important, self-pitying nonsense. 

This wasn't just his second chance with Clara, not if he was honest, as he was finally ready to be. It was his third, fourth? How many chances was he going to get? Something in the universe was very keen that they should stick together, and he finally could admit he'd always been, would always be, in agreement.

Being honest with himself, and honest with Clara were two very different things. In the dreams, it had all felt very real. She called him her impossible man, the only other choice besides Danny (whom he did not begrudge). But did she mean him, or the previous one? The way she looked at him in the dreams, the way she was looking at him now... He was absolutely terrified. He'd rather face a Dalek fleet, but he had to be honest, whatever happened. The only thing stopping him was timing. Time was everything. 

* * *

Clara could hardly process what brought her to this moment, if it was even real, as she dared to believe it was. She started the night like any other Christmas Eve, only to find herself pulled into a death-defying impossible adventure with her best friend, having met and lost wonderful people, aged 62 years and back again, all to end up back on the Tardis, with the one gift she never dared hope to ever ask for or receive. That was life with her impossible man. Always impossible. 

She felt a pang of guilt and loss for Danny, a grief she realized with not just a little regret, was becoming easier to cope with over time. He hadn't deserved the way she'd screwed things up so badly. What made her think she could decide her way through love? She did love him, but she'd loved the Doctor too, loved him still. Even if in the end he was able to use his death for a greater purpose, the thought of it ripped her heart out. Yes, Danny Pink would always deserve his five minutes, he deserved at least that.

She found herself actually grateful to the dream-crabs (or Santa?) in a way, as the dreams had finally given her the closure she so badly needed. "A man died, don't be so self-centered,” she chastised her own thoughts. 

Events in time were like that. If she learned nothing else from her life with the Doctor, it was that you had to embrace the wonderful along with the terrible, for it was the light combined with the shade that would lead to who you actually were in the now. Only some points were fixed, we were all still changeable. Her train of thought wandered back to reflecting on the process of letting go. There was a part of her that would always love Danny, but she was finally giving herself permission to move on.

Her mind snapped back to the present’s current problem. How to keep this moment going? It was usually at this point that she might say something stupid, push too hard, force her hand, make the Doctor retreat back into himself. Not this time. 

She peered up at him, the corners of her mouth tugged into a grin that threatened to etch itself permanently onto her face. She broke off contact with his hand and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, burying her head in his side. The Doctor responded in a way she never thought possible until tonight. Without hesitation he wrapped his free arm around her, pulling her close.

"Where to, Boss?" He peered down at her, meeting her gaze, and returning its warmth.

"Paternoster, do you think the gang would be up for a Christmas visit?" 

His face lit up. He was serious in the dream about continuing the tradition. He had been serious in the dream about many things. “Yes! A Christmas where nothing happens! We can wear funny jumpers, listen to terrible music, just a like a normal coup... just like normal." 

No longer able to contain his energy, and wanting to recover from saying too much too soon, he broke the embrace to almost dance and turn as new ideas continued to pop into his head and flow directly out of his mouth, with no editor in between. "I'm sure I have some truly awful Christmas jumpers!” he continued on, scurrying into the wardrobe section of the Tardis.

Clara raised an eyebrow and smirked at the turn of phrase he'd quickly and unsuccessfully covered up. "...just like a normal couple." she broke into a schoolgirl giggle in spite of herself. "Come on Oswald, don't get your hopes too high just yet. Just be happy you're back together," her thoughts making an attempt to will herself back into some semblance of managing expectations.

Her train of thought was interrupted by shouted descriptions of terrible Christmas jumpers past. Would she like the one with the cats covered in lights that lit up? Or, would she rather the one with the events of Grandma Got Run-over by a Reindeer embroidered into it, with a button you could press to listen to the song? She didn't want to know how or where he got those jumpers. "No thanks! I’m good. I’ve got clothes in my room, if it's not already deleted!" she shouted in reply.

The Tardis landed, and he quickly shuffled back in, the jumper idea abandoned. "You're no fun!" he mock-pouted.

Without thinking, Clara approached him slowly as he stayed frozen and transfixed. She wrapped her arm around his, entwining their fingers together, gently tugging so that he'd drop his shoulder a little to meet her halfway. His head turned slowly towards her as he did so, his eyes hooded. She whispered in his ear, her voice pitched more huskily than she planned, "Oh, but I can be fun, lots of fun. Just give me something fun to do, something that isn't Christmas jumpers.” She met his eyes steadily as she unconsciously licked her lips. The fire in his eyes was unmistakable. It took her breath away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The excerpt at the beginning is directly from the transcript for Last Christmas. It's simply there to set the mood. This is my first attempt at writing ever. I would say to please be gentle, but I feel that people have a right to say what they like. This fic will be released weekly in blocks of 1 to 3 or so chapters. As a first-timer, I want to assure the reader that this is a completed story. You won't be left hanging!
> 
> The rating on this will range from Teen to Explicit, but I'll warn you before that leap happens.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Each wanting to keep their moment of joy alive, the Doctor and Clara deal with their respective nerves as the moment of truth grows near.

The Doctor's brain seemed to be malfunctioning. He couldn't process thoughts there for a moment. Eventually he was able to shake it off. He grinned broadly, and grabbed her hand, "What are you waiting for? Come on, come on!" He pulled her with him to the Tardis door, laughing as she followed his lead.

"Shh, won't they hear us?" Clara asked, stifling a giggle. The stable yard echoed with their laughter, and they hadn't exactly rang ahead to ask. Vastra and Jenny were probably OK with this, but that was no reason to wake up the neighborhood on Christmas Eve. The Doctor didn't reply, but piped down as they reached the door, for which he had a key. They'd see the Tardis and figure it out. He was always welcome, he just so rarely took them up on it, and for once, he wasn't there because of bad news.

Clara shivered as they entered the foyer. Wearing only her nightie and bathrobe, these Victorian houses were charming but drafty. The Doctor wrapped an arm around her and whispered as they headed up the stairs, "I have a standing invitation. They always keep a room for me. I don't often have reason to use it.." He got lost in thought as they continued down the hallway. Had it really never been good news? He inwardly shrugged, not really caring about the past at this particular moment.

Clara didn't have much to add, with her mind already racing ahead to what happens in the bedroom, not half-afraid that this was another dream-state. No ice-cream pain. It seemed she was really with the Doctor, at Paternoster, heading to... his bedroom.

She rejoined him in mid-conversation. "Of course, Strax might be up and about. Guard du..."

They were unceremoniously interrupted by a voice behind them. "Halt! Turn around and surrender yourselves, for the glory of the Sontaran Empire!" 

They each lifted their hands and slowly turned in mock surrender. Clara broke into a grin. "Strax, it's us! We're just going to..." Going to what? She was at a loss for words. Her cheeks flushed as she felt the Doctor's gaze, clearly interested to know himself what she was going to say next. "Like he doesn't know," she thought to herself. She could feel annoyance start to bubble. Why did she have to do all the emotional heavy-lifting? Couldn't he for once say it out loud? Was he going to shut down and ruin everything after all? Why couldn't he for once, stop being so impossible? 

The Doctor wasn't sure why she was so obviously angry, but it must have been something he did. Did he misread this after-all? Maybe he really did need that manual. He sighed inwardly. It was no matter, no more wasted chances. He had to tell her, only then could they start afresh, whatever that would ultimately mean. 

“We're just heading to my room," He relinquished his coat to Strax, it seemed to keep him happy, as Strax bowed and waddled back down the hall. The Doctor ushered Clara into the room at last, locking the door for good measure. Strax popping in for an impromptu physical just wouldn't do. 

Clara knew her brain was rushing ahead too fast. Things were already changing. He was showing the old sense of humor that until now could only be glimpsed at through that wall he built around himself. It was always some sort of wall with him. With his last self, the wall was the sense of humor, the big sad eyes always giving him away. 

It felt now as if he was showing her his true self. There wasn't much of a defense beyond that wall. From that subconscious choice in physical appearance, to the tears that so quickly threatened at the thought of losing her, only to be choked back down, to the mostly hidden sense of humor and pure joy at the beauty of the universe, he really was trying his best to show her his true self. 

Everything said in that last dream state, how he looked at her, how he joked and bantered, how he was no longer afraid of her touch, and in fact welcomed it, it spoke of a deep affection. Love, certainly, but he probably felt himself above such pudding-brained ideas such as the concept of being in love. Love was not an emotion, it was a promise. What would he have that promise hold?

Every stupid, idiotic argument he would have against the concept of love as it concerned him, had an easy answer. Why couldn't he see that? Clara could not imagine that her crazy floofy-haired grey stick insect would have the courage to seize this moment, when she barely could herself. 

As terrifying as this uncertainty was, it paled in comparison to the regret she would have to live in if she did not try. That regret was still fresh in her mind, having just lived it in that terrible, beautiful dream. The thought of living that in reality was an impossible one. She had to try. It was worth that. 

As she cemented her resolve, the Doctor took her gently by the hand, leading her to his big comfy chair, exactly like the one in the Tardis. He smiled up at her as he sat down gracefully, pulling her gently towards him. She couldn't help but smile back in curiosity. What was he up to? This was unexpected. If he kept pulling like that, she was going to fall rather ungracefully on top of him. 

He wanted her on his lap? Then she could call his bluff. She sat gingerly across him, her legs dangling over the arm of the chair. Clara expected him to protest, even if he had been the one tugging at her. To her surprise however, he gathered her close, so that she could rest her head on his chest and drown a bit in those beautiful grey-blue eyes. They each gave pause, just savoring this newfound intimacy, adjusting and settling into the feel of each other being so very close. It was something new and yet familiar.

The Doctor knew she was owed the truth. She deserved it, after everything she had done for him, in this form and in all the others. Who could be more deserving of his complete raw honesty than his Clara? Even if she could never be his Clara, she deserved to know how he felt, how he had always felt, how he would always feel. Regardless of if she returned his feelings, it was a love without conditions. He would do anything for her. He would be her friend, her protector, he would even leave if that's what she truly wanted. 

Even so, he wasn't blind to the unlikelihood that she would ever want to leave now, and it filled him with so much joy he could barely contain it. Even after that last dream-state though, even after practically eloping, he didn't dare hope for anything more than her companionship. He would take that gladly and truly be the happiest being in all of time and space. But she had to know that his love included rather more than that. The love he felt for her was a promise that encompassed everything. 

He was hopeless with words, not that it usually mattered to him. He didn't much care how he came off in general, but this time he had to get it right. The Doctor quickly decided he couldn't be trusted with his own words, not this time. He slowly ran his fingers through her hair, a simple act that he had missed so so much. Unable to contain the joy he felt any longer, he bent down and kissed her forehead, his kiss slow and lingering. She closed her eyes and sighed, pressing against him tighter as her fingers toyed with the holes in his jumper. It felt so natural for him to chance another, and another.

It wasn't the first time the Doctor had kissed her. His previous form kissed her like this multiple times a day. With this body, however, with these lips, it was the first time. His lips were cool on her warmer human skin. It was a feeling that tugged at her nervous system. 

Only he could manage to make light kisses on the forehead feel so very sensual. He was too impossible to know what effect he had on her. Clara once again closed her eyes as her fingers continued to toy with his jumper, letting this moment last as long as was possible. If she lost the oncoming battle, and this ended up being all that she could ever have, she wanted to keep that memory close.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment of truth arrives, and now they only begin to see just how far honesty can take you.

The Doctor couldn't put this off any longer, it was time to borrow some words. Shakespeare owed him one. Not wanting to pick a tragedy, he immediately knew the line that perfectly summed up everything. You could always count on Shakespeare for getting it right. Clara opened her eyes as he tipped her chin up gently. The words he spoke were not the words she was expecting.

"Clara Oswald, I do love nothing in all of time and space, so well as you. Is not that strange?" He couldn't help but smile down at her, swimming in those deep brown eyes, daring to wonder if her dimples would make an appearance. Seeing those dimples now would mean he'd done a clever thing. He needed to know he'd done a clever thing. Though whatever the case, she knew, and she could do what she would with it. His hearts were hers, and now she knew. He could content himself with that if he had to, telling himself that whatever happened next didn’t matter.

Her breath caught in her throat, hardly believing what she just heard. Did he really say that? He must have. There were words, and it sounded like those were the words he actually said. This wasn't right. She was supposed to have to argue. She was prepared to argue. She was the pursuer, not the pursued. 

Only, he did just say that. Using one of her favorite lines, he couldn't have known that, directed to her, he said something she never dared hope he would say outside of a dream-crab induced state. Wait, was there ice-cream pain? No, shut up. 

This was real. If she thought he was impossible before, this took the prize. He truly said it. She looked at him in wonder. His eyes spoke of something she had glanced before, but only now did she truly realize what had been there all long. What had started between them with an "I'm not your boyfriend" really meant "I have loved and lost too much to be worthy or able again,” which had somehow grown into "I'm not your boyfriend. Boyfriend doesn't begin to describe the depth of affection I have for you." 

"Please, just see me," he had said, what seemed an eternity ago. Now, she truly did.

Clara reached up and caressed his cheek, gently exploring the feel of his cool skin under her fingers. "You have stayed me in a happy hour. I was about to protest I loved you."

"And do it with all thy heart," The Doctor whispered hoarsely. His face could barely contain its smile now. His eyes were wide and full of the same wonder he saw in hers. He should have realized the English teacher would know the lines, but his mind was reeling that she felt the same. He could see her dimples now, he had truly done a clever thing, the most clever of things.

"I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest," Clara couldn't contain the sob that accompanied those words. The Doctor looked at her through furrowed eyebrows quizzically. He didn't grasp happy-crying, though he looked on the verge of falling victim to it himself. She shifted her arms to wrap around his neck, finally feeling that soft curly hair running through her fingers. She smiled up at him, silently willing him that these were good tears, that he was clever.

"Come, bid me do anything for thee," The Doctor whispered as he pulled a mock frown, "But I have to draw the line at killing Claudio. Really there's no need to bring Claudio into this. It’s none of his business." 

Clara let out an exasperated laugh, and the Doctor hurried on, his smile faded. "Clara, I give you this love freely, without hope or expectation. This is no ultimatum. Whatever makes you happy, makes me happy," he paused "Well, your leaving wouldn't exactly make me happy. I admit that now. But my love is without conditions. Whatever path you need to follow, I will support," He reached back for one of her hands, pressing it against his hearts, he sighed, "Even when that path no longer includes me." 

Here was her grey-haired, magical stick insect of an idiot. Hadn't she just said she loved him too? She regarded him, so very vulnerable in this raw, romantic honesty. It made sense now. Underneath that wall, under the bluster and the swagger, beat the hearts of a true romantic. What else could she possibly say?

"Peace! I will stop your mouth," And with that, she pulled him down pressing her lips softly to his, feeling him gently return the kiss.

She broke away to see how he was handling this. It wasn't long ago that he could barely manage a hug, and there had been a lot of physical contact tonight already. His eyes were hooded under those long lashes that drove her to distraction. 

The Doctor ran his tongue slowly over where her lips had just been, pulling her back to him, kissing first one cheek, then the other, her chin, her nose, back to each dimple, and again her forehead. With each kiss he lingered a little longer. Pressing his lips against her ear, he whispered, "Clara. My Clara."

She bit her bottom lip as she let out a slight "Mmmm.” She could feel him smiling against her ear. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that it was a sensitive spot. She shivered as he ran his lips along the outer ridge, sucking gently at her earlobe. She cradled his head against her, giving her an excuse to play with that soft ridiculous hair.

If he was going to tease her like this, she could play that game too. It was her turn to explore, starting at his neck, so much better exposed in his inexplicably holey jumper. Clara could finally explore in a way she caught herself fantasizing about way too much. Like him, she started slowly at first, with gentle lingering kisses, leaving no patch of skin that she could reach un-kissed. 

Her lips parted against his neck as she heard him sigh. She continued her exploration in more earnest now, each sigh telling her where he was more sensitive, what bit of his neck demanded more attention. She nibbled gently and quickly caressed that bit of explored skin with her tongue. 

With each fresh assault, the Doctor gasped, one arm nearly lifting her in an effort to hold her tighter, as he began gently running his other down her side and up again. There was no tentativeness in his touch, rather it was a sensation he wanted to savor, and be savored by her. 

Clara was marking him where the neck meets the collar bone, kissing her way to that bit left exposed by the frayed collar of the jumper. The Doctor’s continued groans and sighs egging her on as his hands got rougher and less controlled, clenching at her nightie. 

She could nibble, lick, and tease him forever, but even as the thought crossed her mind, he was tugging gently at her hair, pulling her face away, seeking out her lips finally with his own. 

They were no longer teasing now, as their lips touched. Already parted, their mouths worked on and against the other, pulling and drinking from each other deeply as their tongues met and explored. There was intensity but no rush. Hands were groping and pulling at hair, and lips were swollen from the still unbroken kiss. 

Even still it went on, ever deeper, their mouths opened wider and pulling harder at the other. Whatever kiss they had imagined did not compare to this, and they were in no hurry to end it. It promised of a thousand kisses to come, but this first kiss would only happen once.

But end it must, and as the kiss broke, they could only stare at each other in wide-eyed wonder. Why did they ever wait so long? Or was it the waiting that made it so perfect? 

“Clara…” the Doctor could only moan. Whatever he wanted to say, that was the only prayer his lips could form right now. He pressed his forehead to hers, trying to get his brain to figure out the simple act of removing her from his lap, to his bed, and to what keeps Clara Oswald in your bed once she’s there. His pupils blown, his eyelids fluttered shut at the thought.

Clara could only take in shallow breaths, biting her lower lip as she tried to regain some control. She could practically feel his thoughts. “Oh Doctor I think you’ll find ways to keep me occupied, or I’ll find ways to make you stop thinking…” he moaned softly as if he could hear her. But right now, all she could think was that there was no way she was having this moment ruined by Crab-Face. In all her fantasies, a head that had been occupied by a gooey alien monster did not figure into it. She wasn’t having it.

She grinned playfully at him as she unceremoniously got up. “Right, time for me to have a wash.”

A thousand different possibilities raced through the Doctor’s mind, appearing on his face in the form of a wicked smile. He was more than happy to help Miss Oswald in any way he could. “Well then come right back here. I think something suitable can be arranged” he said, shifting forward and reaching for her waist with a feral grin. 

Clara jumped back playfully, but in a way that said her mind was made up. “It can be arranged, in the Tardis decontamination shower,” She leaned forward and whispered huskily, “Feel free to join me. But I am having an actual wash. No hanky-panky in the Tardis.” 

“Whoever came up with that rule is an idiot,” the Doctor growled in reply, grabbing her hand as he moved his lips down her neck, sucking hard and nibbling lightly, licking the wound he hoped he’d just made, as she moaned her approval. 

Clara shut her eyes tight and tried hard to collect her thoughts, but he was remembering her sensitive ear, turning his attention to tracing it with his tongue, he pulled at her hips, threatening to send her off balance and into straddling his lap. 

“I wouldn’t argue that,” she breathed. He was now covering her mouth with his, punctuating each of her words with ever-lengthening kisses. “But. Right. Now. I need… I need…” You. “To have a wash.” With that, she broke away successfully, proud of her self-control, and maybe not just a little smug she was making him lose his. 

The Doctor looked at her almost in despair. “Claaarrrraaaaa,” he moaned, leaning back against the chair and shutting his eyes against his frustration. She was serious. The one time he didn’t care about having a bloody wash. Impossible woman.

“Like I said, feel free to join me.”

The Doctor opened his eyes and snapped his head forward. “Fine, you win. Look into my eyes and see how much I want you,” he thought to himself as he made eye contact. He watched closely for signs of wavering. She swayed a little, her eyes reflecting his need right back at him, so much for that tactic, but she was resolute. Did he expect anything less? The side of his mouth pulled into a sly smile.

“I’ll try, but as you may have noticed by now, Clara my Clara, I have some thinking to do first, if I’m to leave this room with any shred of dignity.” He punched the last words, his eyes looking down at his lap and back up to more meekly meet her eyes. 

Her gaze followed his, and back up again, or tried to. She really did try, but that was quite the problem he had there. He was going to need help with that problem and soon. She was Clara Oswald, she would always help the Doctor, and how she wanted to help him very much right now. He was too shy to notice how close she was to caving in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that wraps up this week's block of Second Chances. If you enjoy the story, stay tuned this time next week, when I'll be posting 3 more chapters. Will Clara cave? You'll just have to wait to find out!
> 
> The bit borrowed from Shakespeare are excerpts from Much Ado About Nothing.
> 
> I can give you this hint: the rating increases next week to Mature with a side order of perhaps a bit Explicit (The rating will be updated to reflect that). How do they get there? You'll just have to wait! ;)
> 
> As I said in chapter 1, this is my first work, but please feel free to share your honest opinions. 
> 
> Thank you to @apocalyptic-scenes, without whom this could not have happened.


	4. Chapter 4

There would be enough time for that later. “Suit yourself,” she shrugged as she bounced out the room, as if it didn’t matter to her at all if he followed. She may’ve been serious about the wash, but if she had her way, and she had every intention of having her way, this night was only getting started.

Everything was happening so fast now, but that was good, wasn't it? She attempted to gather her thoughts into something that at least resembled logical organization. There was no question that this was what she wanted, but there was also no denying that this relationship would be different to any other. 

Boyfriend was entirely the wrong word. Had they eloped? Were they married? She did know his name... A label to assign at another time. She had a lifetime to figure it out. She certainly wasn’t letting him leave again. No more lies between them, the teacher had truly learned her lesson.

Honesty could flow easily now, but her ability to relinquish control was a different matter. Control was a harsh word for it though. As far as Clara was concerned, she had no interest in controlling anyone. She just preferred not-so-much knowing her destination, but knowing enough to prepare properly for the journey. 

It’s what she mostly meant when she called the Doctor impossible. There was no list of values that would lead you to the right answer, and she liked being prepared, liked getting the answer right. It was what initially kept her from jumping head first into the snog box in the first place.

Or rather, that was the old Clara. The old Clara was becoming increasingly distant to this newer version, but change was good. _”As long as you remember all the people you used to be.”_ She smiled pensively to herself, as she was reminded how Christmases weren't typically happy affairs where they were concerned, but hadn't that cycle already been broken? The smile grew into something less pensive.

Three simple words, and everything changed. It all seemed so natural, though she knew better than to dare predict if he’d be joining her. She was too happy to be annoyed at that, however. The smile she wore made her cheeks sore, but she was past caring. She couldn’t have stopped it if she tried.

* * *

The Doctor didn’t have any experience in this body, and had hoped to have a bit more self-control. Although he never dared to imagine she would feel the same, he also hadn’t then figured on her just skipping off like that. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle. Nothing would ever be easy with his Clara. It’s why she was his Clara. His lot in life was to be wrapped around her tiny little waist… finger. Her tiny little finger. This was not helping.

He leaned back once more and stared at the ceiling. Things that would have an opposite effect on his physiology than certain little egomaniac needy game players. His brain reached back through a thousand years or more, skipping the obvious everyday alien baddies. 

“Jackie Tyler, Mickey Smith, Sylvia Noble (Oh how his blood could boil at that name.), Brian Williams,” Good it was starting to work. “River, Captain Jack… Clara” Wrong direction. His brain scrambled for a few more names to correct the error. “Ood Sigma, Strax…” he laughed at that, “Danny Pink.” Sorted.

The Doctor hopped up eagerly, heading out the room and down the stairs. In his enthusiasm, he just barely missed falling over Strax, who must’ve fallen asleep on guard duty. Strax was getting soft in his exile, or maybe it was just that if the Doctor was there, everything was safe. Never mind that everything was safe anyway. 

The Doctor hopped over him quietly, grabbing a throw out of the drawing room to cover the sleeping Sontaran. He was too hard on him, really. Strax had always proven himself the most loyal and honorable time and again. He shook his head quickly, he was the one going soft. 

Even so, he tiptoed lightly out the door, as to not wake the now snoring Strax. Just a few more steps now and he would soon be making sure the teacher got all the help washing that she needed. 

How easily his mind strayed now to places he never dared for so long. Of course he was nervous. He’d never been one to leave a trail of broken hearts strewn across all of time and space. He could be a shameless flirt in some of his previous forms, but never was he with anyone, or wanted to be with anyone, that he wouldn’t have committed to. That kind of love was a rare thing, as it should be. 

He pushed any remaining doubts to the very back of his mind as the Tardis door swung open. Instead, he chose to reflect on how special that first time would be, sharing it with Clara. The one constant he could always count on, who had seen the best and worst of him, and by some miracle loved him all the more for it.

She always thought she had to take care of him. Well before this night was out, he was going to be taking care of her. The Doctor's eyebrows raised as the thought forced his mouth into a joining grin. He continued bounding down the corridor that would bring him to the decontamination showers.

* * *

The decontamination shower room was a must for any time traveling adventurer. As nearly every room in the Tardis it was, strictly-speaking, larger than it needed to be. Adorned in sparkling, carbon-blue, and self-cleaning tiles from floor to ceiling, its fixtures appeared to be stainless steel (but were a more superior, hygienic, alien polymer). Lit tiles dotted themselves between the blue ones for proper lighting in all possible situations where eyesight may be affected. 

The shower cubicles were sized at least twice as large as the exterior dimensions of the Tardis herself. Each was partitioned with its own tiled wall, and featured a rain shower system covering the entire area of the cubicle, as well as spray from all sides. 

The center of the shower room meanwhile was a simple arrangement of benches and cubby holes, holding towels, bathrobes, and other needful things. The sound of gentle rain mixed in with off-key humming could be heard from a shower cubicle in the corner from where steam poured out. The Doctor bit his lower lip in nervous anticipation as he removed his what now seemed to be entirely too many layers.

Clara held her head up into the rain as she rinsed her hair. The echo of the water hitting the tiles from all sides masking anything else she may otherwise have heard. Her senses tingled with a mixture of excitement and nerves, as the knock on the wall served to jolt her out of her reverie. He had taken her up on her offer after all.

A low-pitched Scottish brogue queried, "I hope that's Clara Oswald in my shower."

She shivered despite the heat of the water that could peel skin from bone, "Oh I don't know, I can't remember. I might be. You'll just have to see for yourself." She paused, "And it's not just your shower anymore."

He peeked his head around the wall, whatever snappy comeback he had waiting in his clever reply suddenly forgotten as his eyes drank in the sight of her. If ever there was a fixed point in his timeline, this was it. The sight of her body that was perfect to him in every way, secretly filed away for all time. She would never look any different to him than she did right now at this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be mature/borderline explicit, depending on your comfort level, but the night is still young at Paternoster. Enjoy!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now things start to heat up a little, but the night is still young...

Clara had been on the receiving end of her fair share of adoring looks, but no one had ever gazed on her in quite that way before, and no one but he would ever get the opportunity to look at her that way again. She took his hand and pulled him under the shower with her. 

There was no escaping the extreme heat of the water as it rained down, searing him from all sides. He looked up into the water which he had always explained as ‘H2O plus’, and laughed, "Is it hot enough, or do you think it needs to be hotter?" Oblivious to the opening he just gave her.

"It's not possible to be any hotter than this right here," the Doctor's attention snapped back down to Clara, who was running her hands down his chest, curling her fingers into the small patch of hair at its center, continuing down his stomach to run her fingers against its firm softness, playing with the alluring hair found there. 

She hadn't been exaggerating when she told Vastra her head wasn't turned by pretty young men. This right here was her kind of pretty. Although she loved her previous Doctor in a way that was never to be fully realized, this body was like it was designed for her.

Her eyes continued down as she tried not to focus too much on what was between his legs. It's wasn’t something that was supposed to matter, and yet, this was a wonder she looked forward to seeing more of. She could feel his breathing become shallow under her hands, and could see him fighting to keep himself from getting hard. She understood the promise he was trying to make, the simple wish hidden under that layer of control.

The Doctor reached around her back to grab the shower gel. The water included everything you needed to disinfect yourself of germs alien to your system, while keeping all the lovely properties of water. ‘H2O plus’ had such a nice ring to it, but still nothing beat soap for feeling clean.

Moving as close as he could without touching her, he bent down as if meaning to kiss her neck. Just as she tilted her head in acceptance, he pulled back. Her eyes opened to a wide smile and flash of his eyes. Clara was beginning to realize that he planned to beat her at her own game. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

The gel ready in his hands, he whispered in her ear "Turn around, darling." It was the first time he used a term of endearment that wasn't her name, and her knees went a bit weak. A girl could get used to this. She did as she was told with a sigh. He proceeded to run his lathered hands slowly down and back up her entire back, starting from either side and working towards the middle. 

His hands were in no rush, with each downstroke they cupped her backside, tenderly squeezing, as he bent down to only just nearly kiss her shoulders. She tried leaning back as far as she dared, but he anticipated her every move, backing away just in time with a soft chuckle. 

Momentarily forgetting her own rules, she turned back around in an effort to kiss him. He bent down to meet her mouth, his open as if to cover hers. Her lips parted, but just as they almost met in a kiss, he once again pulled back, laughing. She was glowering at him now. “You're not done yet," she stated in command.

"Then you need to turn back around, my love." He thought now he might try to break the teacher's rules and really kiss her. Back in his room felt like an eternity ago and her kisses were too perfect to go without them for too long.

He bent back over her, running his hands down her sides, lazily trailing the path the water was taking as it flowed over her. She reached up around his neck to pull his lips eagerly to meet hers, but two could play this game, and it was her that set the rules of engagement. Just as his tongue darted out in a desperate bid to taste hers, she pulled her head back.

"Easy boy, remember no hanky-panky," her giggle turning into a gasp as he spun her back around. His hands lathered up, he bent over her, just enough to have better reach and to be able to enjoy the view.

Taking his time, he paid her front its due attention, rubbing her torso methodically. He just glanced her breasts at first, then cupped them gently as his hands moved on to caress her neck, and back down again. Taking note of what made her react, he repeated the motion, paying more attention to her breasts. Holding them gently, he squeezed her nipples until she couldn't hold back the moan that escaped her lips. With one hand he continued playing with each breast in turn, while moving the other across her stomach, down her hips, and back again. 

The Doctor wanted no part of her to feel unattended-to. He relished in the feel of her soft skin under his hands. Eventually, his hand wandered further down, pausing at her midriff. He needed permission before continuing further. She had made the rules clear. 

“You win this round, Clever boy.” she managed to breathe out. Although, really wasn’t she the winner here? She started the night alone in the world, and was here now, held safe in the arms of the one she would always love, the impossible alien that could make her feel a million different things at once. And now, more than any other feeling, he was making her feel completely loved, as completely loved as she had always loved him. Completely loved, and completely aroused.

“Is that a yes?” he punctuated his question with a trail of kisses across one shoulder, pausing to pay special attention to the back of her neck, before continuing across the other shoulder. As he did so, he ran both hands languidly over her entire torso, cupping her breasts again before moving on to trace her ribcage, committing the feel of her to memory.

"Yes," she sighed, unable to manage anything more than a whisper.

"Clara…” breathing into one ear before turning his attention to the other, "Say it again." His mouth was turning its attention to the nape of her neck, kissing, sucking and swirling his tongue over it in turns. His hands moved in alternating patterns now, splaying across her stomach, gripping her more tightly while lightly tracing his fingers over her hips.

Rules seemed so very arbitrary now. Every bit of her was begging to just say yes. "Yes," she moaned, "Yes, please. Doctor. Yes."

"Oh Clara," he thought, or perhaps said. One arm encircled her waist while the other travelled slowly to that part of her demanding all his of attention right now. As he gently cupped and pressed his hand against her center, he intoned in a voice that was low and gravelly, "I love you." And with that, he slipped his middle finger gently into the wet warmth that was ready for all of him.

Clara couldn't help but nearly cry out. The feeling of his hand pressing against the most sensitive part of her, as he laid his soul bare, was something that sent sparks of warm pleasure shooting throughout her body. 

The one finger was now joined by another, sliding slowly up and down, tracing and exploring her. He was more clever with his fingers than she could ever have guessed, and that was saying something. The back and forth motion, repeating its slow and steady rhythm drove all thought from her head. She felt a slave to the repeating pattern. She’d never felt a slave to anything until this point.

She moaned something that may have intended to be “Clever boy,” as she fell into his relentless tempo, the pressure increasing in reply. His fingers were finding the less obvious sensitive areas, as first one finger and then the other slowly slid just inside her, and back out again. Clara's knees were buckling now in an effort to grind harder into his hand, but he held her fast. 

His breath was again becoming shallow. She couldn't know what this did to him. He could feel how close she was to her release and it was driving him to distraction. Clara was completely and utterly his now, as he was completely at her mercy. 

The Doctor’s fingers were encircling her clit, glancing his fingers around it lightly, feeling for her reaction to set the intensity. There would be time enough later to be inside her once more.

Clara was crying out his name now as if in a mantra. She was so close, but she didn't want to leave this plateau, not ever. She was tensing her muscles, in an effort to stave off the ever-increasing pressure spreading from between his fingers throughout every nerve in her body.

The Doctor could feel her fighting it. Unable to keep his moans and gasps under control, to keep from crying out in unison with her, he said in a pleading growl "Tell me what it feels like. Tell me. Please. Tell me." It felt like a supernova in his very mind.

Clara tried to form conscious thought as his hand and fingers continued rubbing her in their ever increasing urgency. She had to concentrate on the feeling in order to describe it, and that feeling drove away all conscious thought. She opened her mouth to speak, “It feels…” she gasped as she tried to find words, but it was too late. She was gone, collapsing into him, Clara could only manage an “I love you!" as wave after wave of her climax spread from its epicenter throughout her body. She shuddered with each new wave, feeling very nearly as if she was coming more than once.

Relaxing against him, he continued to hold her tight, both arms wrapping around her now, letting the feeling continue to wash over her. She sighed, her breathing slowly returning to normal, "I love you, Doctor. I love you." 

She lent her head back into his chest as he straightened and kissed the top of her head. "Clara my Clara, I know you do." Letting his face rest against her head, he kissed her again, sighing deeply as he squeezed her tight. "I love you too."


	6. Chapter 6

Clara turned around, unable to control the urge to glance down. It surprised her that he was able to stay soft like that. She had no doubt as to how aroused he was at being able to play her like a harp. Maybe it was a Timelord thing. Then again, it had been a problem for him earlier that night. She shrugged inwardly to herself, not worried, just curious as to how her impossible alien was different. She had no doubt she would be finding out soon enough.

He wrapped his arms back around her, as hers wrapped around his neck. Reaching down, he scooped her up so that she was eye level with him. Giggles at touching noses soon gave way to kissing deeply, lips moving in time together as their tongues slid against each other. It was another kiss where time stood still and waited for them, ready to resume again once their lips parted. Clara slid slowly back so her feet touched the floor once more.

"Don't you think it's your turn now?” She asked coyly. She was eager to explore more of the entire wonder that was his body, and to feel what those powerful thighs could do. 

He raised an eyebrow in mock indignation that his smile gave away as play. "Later, my darling. Go dry off, rest up," his voice lowered "You'll need your rest, for later," his smouldering look gave way to a smile. His eyes were hooded and full of love mixed with desire. She couldn't doubt the sincerity behind his eyes. "I won't be a moment.” 

"Ok, if you say so," she was giving him the side-eye, but mirroring his smile. Truth be told, she could use a few minutes to recoup after that, although of course she would never admit it.

"Gooooo," he said, motioning her out of the shower. She headed to the dressing area in the center of the room, “And use your own bathrobe this time!" he shouted from around the cubicle wall. Whenever he needed this shower room, it seemed his robe was nearly always missing in action.

"No! I like yours better. It’s softer," and smelled of him. She laughed as she could practically hear the eye roll.

Meanwhile, the Doctor leaned heavily against the shower wall and flipped the levers to cold. That would teach him. He was never going to admit this to her, but he didn't need her help, because he didn't need her help. Clara had truly driven him to distraction, and beyond it. Just watching and feeling her climax was enough to send the same shockwaves through him. He wasn't even sure if he could blame that on the new body either.

With his Clara, he had no concerns at all about having more in him to give, no doubts at all. If it could feel that intense without even touching, imagine actually making physical contact. Feeling the beginnings of arousal stirring already, he turned the lever to colder. Clara certainly made it easy, or hard, depending on perspective.

He hurried through the actual process of washing up as these thoughts passed through his mind. His was a mind that was constantly in motion. It leapt from point to point, forever mapping paths through past and future and back again, concentrating on beauty unseen and questions unanswered.

With her, it was very easy to tune that out. Maybe Clara was his meditation, his path to a quiet mind. She couldn’t be put into any one category though, and never used for anyone’s purpose. No, she was so much more than that. She encompassed everything.

Washing done, he shut down the shower and grabbed a towel. That little bossy wonderful woman had taken his bathrobe after all, and was curled up in it, already snoozing on the bench with her head on a folded towel.

The Doctor quickly dried up and grabbed the remaining too-short robe, squatting down next her as she slept. “Sweetheart, you're tired. We have all the time in the world if you need to sleep,“ he cooed softly as he rubbed her arm in an effort to gently wake her.

She opened her eyes, a bit disorientated for a few milliseconds, with him so close, being so affectionate. Was this real? Her mind snapped awake. It was so very real. He wasn't going to pull back or change his mind. "That's a nice way to wake up. I could get used to that," She sat up and stretched.

"Well yes ma'am, but in the meantime, you need to sleep…”

Clara grinned and booped his nose. "You're not getting off that easy," his mouth was forming a playful grin as an eyebrow raised, "I mean, it won't be that easy to get off," his other eyebrow joined in, “Shut up. I'm groggy." Clara pursed her lips in an unconvincing scowl. 

He kissed her shoulder as he stood up, taking her offered hand and pulling her up. "My robe. Give it." It was almost a foot too long on her anyway, and they both looked ridiculous.

"Suit yourself," Clara said as she unceremoniously slipped it off her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor in a silent dare.

The Doctor gave her a crooked smirk, as his eyes wandered slowly down, removing her robe from his body in the same fashion, answering her dare. His eyes travelled back up to meet hers, moving close enough to almost touch. He bent down to grab the robe at her feet, so close she could feel his breath on her skin. Kneeling in front of her, his eyes drank her in. Clara bit down hard on her lower lip at the reminder of just how well this alien, her alien, knew how to push her buttons. 

He grabbed the robe, but not before leaning into her, his mouth opening as if to taste her skin on his tongue. She pressed her fingers into his scalp in an effort to will him to kiss and adore where he liked. The Doctor regarded her with warm eyes full of laughter. Pulling away, he stood up with his robe in hand, his entire face broken into a wide smile.

"Anything you can do, I can do better," Clara thought to herself, intending to copy and improve upon the original. Just as she made for her robe however, the Doctor was already at the door, acting as if he was the very model of complete innocence. She rolled her eyes and laughed as she grabbed his offered hand. 

“Have your fun now, Doctor, because I’m going to make you pay dearly later on,” She thought as they awkwardly grabbed for slippers while trying not to break contact, all fumbling and silly. 

The thought of him so innocent as to what was in store for him had her nearly doubled over laughing. The blissfully unaware Doctor returned her laughter as they ran down the corridor and out of the Tardis. How he had missed laughing for no reason, and every reason all at once. 

They could have well stayed in the Tardis, but there was something about that bedroom. It felt right, it felt like home. It was something neither had to discuss. Their laughter died down into a comfortable warm silence. The nervous giggles of before replaced with knowing smiles and quiet anticipation. 

Clock bells, or perhaps church bells intoning the call to midnight services could be heard in the distance. _Eleven's hour is over now, the clock is striking twelve's._ A fresh start, a new beginning, a Christmas where nothing happens, nothing and everything.

_”The man I hope you are with…”_

The thought wasn't lost on either of them. It was freezing outside, and they made quickly for the front door. Before turning the key in the lock however, The Doctor scooped Clara up in a tight hug, actually spinning her around. She let out a small squeal of delight against his terry-clothed shoulder. "Merry Christmas, Clara Oswald," he said in a low voice that melted her heart. It was a sound that promised a very Merry Christmas indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned next week for chapters 7-8! There's still plenty for the Doctor and Clara to learn about each other.
> 
> And thank you so much for your support, it really means a lot. I thought if I could get three people to like this, that would be something. But feel free to leave your honest feedback. It's all appreciated.


	7. Chapter 7

They tiptoed lightly over Strax, pausing and cringing mid-step as he mumbled something about his enemies dying honorably on the glorious field of battle. The Doctor gingerly helped Clara take the three stairs at a time she needed to clear Strax before following her up the stairs, trying not to giggle as they scurried on tiptoes down the hall and back to his room.

They faced each other as the Doctor leaned back on the closed door, smiling knowingly as the lock clicked into place. It was just the Doctor and Clara, alone, in the bedroom, with their walls down and hearts open.

The distance was closed between them in an instant. Helping one another out of their robes, their lips sought the other's out. They kissed softly this time, with lips only slightly parted, as the Doctor drew her towards the bed. He tossed opened the sheets, before turning his attention back to her. 

She broke away from the kiss only to climb onto the bed, scooting to the middle, she perched on her knees with her eyes locked on his. The link between them was nearly visceral, pulling the Doctor to her, whether by her hands or by her eyes, he wouldn't have been able to say.

Love's promise was honesty, and it was honesty they showed. There was no hurry in these kisses. Teasing and games were replaced with relishing the closeness they could trust and enjoy at last. His cool skin against her quickly warming human skin, lips softly open, pulling and pressing with intensity but no rush. Arms wrapped tightly around each other, they could take their time.

Clara took the lead first. He knew this was who she was, and he loved her for it. She mapped out his body slowly, nudging him gently into lying down as she licked and sucked at his shoulders. 

The simple sensation of her lips on his body as he fell into the sheets was rather like falling into a rain shower of kisses. He chuckled in spite of himself at the image of being trapped in a shower of her kisses, with no other choice but to submit to them. She paused only long enough to see the warmth and love in his eyes before continuing to learn so much more about him than she ever dared to hope she would be allowed.

"Do you like it when I kiss you here?" she whispered as her lips parted against his stomach. A long sigh escaped his lips. "Are you too sensitive there?" She moved back up to gently tug at each of his nipples in turn with her lips. His sharp intake of breath could have meant anything, but his hands against her scalp pressing her against him left little doubt. She nosed the perfectly sparse hair on his chest playfully as she continued her path downwards.

"Clara…” he rasped quietly, brushing her hair away from her face as she took her time exploring ever downward. ”You don't have to…” he moaned, unable to finish the sentence.

She looked up, grinning, "I don't have to what, Clever Boy?" There was no doubt of his arousal now as it was clearly betraying his words. He smiled meekly, brushing her hair and caressing the back of her head.

"I may not have to," Clara kissed the tip, darting her tongue around the head imperceptibly, “but I want to." Desire was clear in the depth of her voice. He couldn't contain the groan emanating from his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut as his eyebrows met in an intense furrow.

That was all she needed to hear, all she so wanted to hear. She traced his length with her lips, before repeating the same motion, adding her tongue. He gasped and tensed his hold on her head as she gently took just the tip of him into her mouth at first, and then gradually taking in as much of him as she could, her tongue rubbing against the back of his member. Her hand gently stroked down the base and past it, finding his balls as they contracted beneath her fingers. He may not be able to say it, but he needed her every bit as much as she needed him.

He let out a sound that was something between a moan and a laugh as he pulled her back up. She beamed down at him as he caressed her cheek, his thumb tracing the dimple there. "Later," he intoned in a low gravel, features softened by the loving smile he returned.

He rose up to meet her kiss, passionate, warm, and hard. Rolling over carefully so that he was leaning against her with their legs entwined, he whispered playfully, "My turn.”

Loving her was always going to be like this, it was always going to be at least a little bit playful, a little bit competitive. This is who they were together, and it was their mutual idea of perfection.

The Doctor wondered softly, as if only for himself, “I seem to finally have Clara Oswald in my bed.” He kissed, licked, sucked at any part of her within his reach. “Now what do I do to keep her here, hmm?” His tongue encircled her belly button before he darted down to her hip, working back up one side and down the other. Clara wondered if victoriously conquered an actual feeling? She decided it was now. He wanted her, and he could have her. He could always have her.

“What does my Clara like?” he asked the soft skin of her inner thigh. Before she could do anything other than gasp, he darted back up to her breasts. “She liked this earlier.”  


He took her nipple into his mouth, sucking with increasing intensity until she groaned, “Teeth.” And he willingly obliged, pulling and sucking from between his teeth firmly but carefully. Clara hissed her approval.

“Does she like that?” he asked before continuing to kiss the soft skin of her breast. She squirmed underneath him. “Does she?” he whispered as he traced the underside with his tongue.

Clara finally relented with a loud “Yes! She does!” He chuckled softly and made her gasp as he devoted the same attention to the other nipple, with increasing pressure. Digging her fingers into his hair, she pressed her head into the pillow, hissing something that could have been his name if she was coherent.

The Doctor moved back up to her neck. He hadn’t really explored there yet, and he found that a pity. He momentarily forgot his game of asking as he sought to mark that soft beautiful skin of hers. Her body was a physical reminder of all the beauty in the universe, quieting all waking thoughts, other than being in this moment at this time. Did she realize how rare a thing that was for a Timelord? There was only one way he could tell her, but not just yet. 

First, he had one more curiosity to satisfy. A curiosity that he could look forward to satisfying again, and again, whenever she liked. He moved down her body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. Clara inhaled sharply in anticipation as he paused between her legs, his mouth inches from her skin. Lifting her head at his delay, she found him staring, enthralled. Her nerves were tugged and pulled by the passion she found in his eyes.

She ran her hands through his hair in an effort to will him lower. He obliged, lowering his mouth to take in his first taste of her. His tongue followed the path his fingers traced in her earlier. He moaned his approval. If all of the beauty and joy in the universe could be personified in her, then this was its center right here. 

A multitude of feelings washed over Clara at once. There was the total adoration she had never felt from anyone before, combined with her complete and utter desire for him. Then there was the near-disbelief of a love she never hoped to share, with someone she never dared hope to see again. It was all part of what made him impossible. What was now so very possible, made it that much more impossible. And the physical sensation of course. His mouth and tongue were relentless, gentle and yet insistent in their pace. She wasn’t going to last.

He felt almost selfish in what he was doing to her. He didn’t care about technique or even her physical pleasure of release. Right now, at this moment, she was his. All of her was his, and he could explore and taste her at his pleasure. He didn’t hear her moans or cries, he was concentrated solely on the taste of her, the feel of her in his mouth, under his tongue. The Doctor slipped first one finger, and then the other slowly inside of her as his mouth continued its assault. His fingers found the heart of her pleasure, and he moaned into her as if he’d found his own.

It was then that he could finally feel the tugging on his head and pulling at his shoulders. He snapped up, alarmed that he’d gone too far. How long had she been pleading with him to stop? Those fears were gone in an instant as he followed her lead obediently back to her eye level. Her mouth met his as their tongues tangled and danced against each other, their mouths groping, helplessly lost in the other. He sat up in front of her, quickly pulling her to him. 

They beamed at each other as they settled comfortably so that she was straddling him. The Doctor pulled her into a tight embrace, rocking gently as he did so. A hug for Clara that she had missed so much, but at once also had never felt like this. 

She couldn’t help the tiny jab that came from her mouth uncensored. “I thought you weren’t a hugging person now.” She inwardly cringed.

He felt her tense up. They were more alike than they had a right to be. He buried his face in her neck as he murmured, “Shut up.” She laughed and sighed comfortably into him. She should have realized it was safe to be herself, mistakes and all.

He broke the hug so that their faces were nearly touching and scrunched his nose as she kissed it. “It is safe to be yourself, you know. It always has been.” _Do you think I care for you so little…_ Yes, she knew. 

“Wait, I didn’t say that.” She pursed her lips in confusion.

He raised his eyebrows and looked up in an effort to explain, “You didn’t say any of that earlier either, but I still heard it.” His eyes had a mock humility to them as he formed a big smile that silently said “I hope I’m doing a clever thing?”

Clara wasn’t angry, but she was curious, “Ok, explain.” 

He thought better of doing a Dalek impression. “There’s a very slight telepathic link when we’re this close for this long. All that… honesty.” He stretched a hand and shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. “I didn’t know. I had hoped. Remember, you know my name.” 

She interrupted, “Your name is the Doctor,” as if correcting him.

He smiled, “It helps strengthen the bond though.” She shot him a sideways glance. “I didn’t pry! I was going to tell you. I am telling you.”

The Doctor hurried on, honesty had been the best policy so far tonight. “I didn’t know myself it would be that strong. Our timelines are so woven together, perhaps it’s inevitable.” She looked worried and he smiled. “Our minds will adjust, and it’s only when we’re close right here,” he touched her forehead. “It shouldn’t get stronger than this without each of us accepting the link.”

At least that’s what he hoped. It was also possible that it would be like dropping a piano on her head and that would rather spoil the mood. But no need to warn her just yet. Hopefully there would be nothing about which to warn. Never had he wanted an adventure to go as planned, as he did this one.

The penny dropped for Clara. So this was how he was different. Tonight had seen a lot of firsts, this was just one more. She dove into his timeline once without hesitation. This was tame by comparison. She had no idea what to expect though. Was his idea of sex different? Was this the only way he could? Satisfaction was less of a concern, as clearly he wanted for nothing in that department. All these questions were beginning to kill the mood. She frowned.

“Clara, you’re over-thinking,” he kissed her forehead. “I love you,” now kissing her cheek, “Let me show you,” he kissed her lips, feeling her relax under his touch as he continued with his slow, gentle kisses.

“So, does it still include this?” She reached down and caressed his member, guiding him closer to her as she stroked. 

He sighed as he closed his eyes and smiled. “It does,” he said gruffly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not have done this without @apocalyptic-scenes. Without her, we would all be in verb-tense hell.


	8. Chapter 8

Clara felt emboldened by the loving gentleness that was masking his desire, the desire that she was causing to stir in him. She was doing this to him, and that felt so very gratifying. But not as gratifying as it could be. “Open your eyes,” she whispered.

He complied, seeing instantly the unspoken question in her. She wanted him inside her, finally, after so long. After all this time, finally to be one with her. The joy was almost too beautiful to bear. He needed her, now. 

As one, they shifted so that he could easily press inside her. Together they paused only briefly, to remember this moment, remembering a future of many nights like this yet to come. “Clara…” he sighed as he slid inside her.

“Doctor,” she panted as her body struggled and then relaxed to accept all of him. She clasped him tightly as he held her fast, letting her take her time adjusting, both enjoying this simple physical completeness in one another.

She began to grind against him, finding a slow steady pace that melted their bodies into one. This was the physical demonstration of the closeness they had always felt. They were as close as anyone could physically get, with arms tightly wound around each other, bodies pressed together, lips seeking and searching for each other. Now that they were sharing in this moment, there was no rush to see its end.

Clara shifted her hips, the level of his intensity increased as the shift in position opened her up to fresh waves of pleasure. The feeling of him stretching and straining the very core of her was like nothing she had yet experienced with anyone. She wanted to tell him, he needed to know what he did to her, but all she could manage was "Doctor," in low husky tones.

The sound of her voice in his ear, begging for the same closeness he clamored for in her, was enough to send him over the edge if he wasn't careful. New body encasing an old mind, he could show her something to make this moment truly last. He could make time stop for them both, as long as the piano didn't drop. Please, don't let the piano drop.

"Clara," he bent into her as she met his lips in a kiss. Words were momentarily forgotten as his lips parted under hers. Neither would ever deny themselves these kisses again.

She tried to increase the pace but his hands firmly steadied her hips. She moaned in frustration as she tipped her head downwards. This was his chance. He leaned down so that his forehead touched hers. Breaking contact with her hips, he reached up and held her face fast to his. If she wanted to be closer, then let her see for herself that she could.

* * *

Clara momentarily buckled at the rush of raw thoughts and emotions that weren't her own. Just at that moment when it felt too much to bear, the haze cleared. This mind may not be her own, but it was so very familiar. 

Everything was laid bare to her, but in her link it was his love she sought. She saw flashes of echoes and memories of her own past that she never lived. But she also saw something else. The pain and grief that defined him. Now she knew at last what she always had suspected lay behind those big sad eyes. 

Arms tightened around her as she explored further. Yes, he was lost to the world when they first met, but it was her that brought him back. He had been enthralled by her, obsessed with her, utterly devoted to her. Clara was humbled. So much so that she almost pulled back, but the Doctor, her Doctor, held her close. He was there in the room with her. They loved, They were in love. She could feel him thrusting into her, driving her ever forward across an unending plateau. 

The exquisite pain of the isolation on Trenzalore. This was something he was not so willing to share, but there was no need. Clara knew. She knew nearly everything about him. There was no need to dwell on unending loneliness when they were finding the physical perfection of unity together at last. He had earned the right to let go of his own grief, to move on. She understood. The Doctor drove into her hard in response, trying to give all of himself to her.

She shifted her focus to the love he felt for her in the events leading up to now. She knew he was an idiot, but now she had the scientific proof from his own mind. She laughed as her hips rose and fell over him. He smiled and closed his eyes. At least he was her idiot now. She could feel the gears of his mind go silent in the arms of hers.

* * *

As Clara entered his mind, he had entered hers. He knew both what she did and did not feel from their first proper meeting. She had done enough for him that there was no doubt of her love and affection. He was aware she was not in love with him then. There was no way she could be. That was something he generally strove very hard to avoid with companions. 

Well, avoid and avoid. It really was a funny old life in the Tardis, but he nearly always denied himself that for so many stupid reasons that were best left in the past. He had started with this body pledging to right wrongs, never considering until this Christmas that maybe the pledge included himself.

Clara clenching and tensing around him was adding to the closeness as well as taking away from it. He could just let go, it would feel so nice to let go. The rush of warmth flooding from her mind into his was enough to bring back his focus. 

The depth of her love was truly humbling. She didn't continually save him for the thrill, or sense of duty, or right. She did it out of love, and love alone. The control wasn't really control, but rather a convenient shorthand. It was all wrapped up in the love and the trust, but he was still going to call it control. She could control him anytime. He was her idiot, but she thought the world of her idiot, for he truly was her idiot. 

He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to bend her down and bury himself in her, driving all thought from their minds, but not yet. This was too beautiful to let go of just yet. 

Clara’s mind was tugging and willing him to be the one to just see her this time, and so he helplessly followed. She loved the Doctor more completely than anyone else could have, as she knew all of him. Even without the entire memory, the sense of him was utterly complete. If his mind could make leaps from time to place without need of the crutch that was the linear human-made construct of time, then her mind was more than a match to his.

Her hands raked his back and pulled at his hair and he bucked into her in response. Without her pulling at him certainly he would fall helplessly, but as she physically held him in the moment, so too her mind forced him to see what she wanted to show him. Suddenly the focus became clear. How long had Clara Oswald loved the Doctor? Always, in all her forms, and in all of his. How long had Ozzie loved the Scottie? From the moment he regenerated.

 _I’m not your boyfriend._ He really was Doctor Idiot! Completely stunned, he nearly broke contact, but she held him tight. _Please, just see me_ , and he truly did. She understood. She understood how he wasn’t ready then. Neither was she. She was the one walking him down the path, showing him every single moment they had gone through both apart and together, that was what brought them to this moment. 

Not a single event could change, without making this moment less beautiful, or wiping it from existence entirely. You really do have to appreciate all of the moments, because you never know what they could hold in store for your future self. Beautiful and wonderful things could happen, if you let them. Doesn’t a Timelord know that?

* * *

“Not when the Timelord’s an idiot,” he muttered against her lips, sealing them with his own. Clara’s gentle laugh turned into a low moan as his hands ran up and down her back, and her hair, thrusting slowly but ever harder into her. 

“If you’re my idiot, then I’m your pudding brain,” her smile turning into a grimace at the loud moan she refused to let out.

The Doctor leaned forward, whispering in her ear “I love pudding. It’s so soft, warm, and sweet,” Clara’s giggle turned to a hiss as his tongue flicked at her ear. He broke away to look on her again, sharing her laughter. Their smiles faded as their foreheads once again touched.

The time for thoughts was over. Memories of the past that had served as a wall were cleared away, leaving only the emotion in its wake. They were back in the room, in the bed, feeling every thrust and grasp, feeling hands on skin and fingernails on backs, and hands pulling at hair. Only this time, they couldn’t have said who was doing what, who was feeling what. 

Just as their bodies were joined, so finally were their minds. As one, they reached for each other’s hands, clasping tightly as their arms entwined, they rose and fell together. The release that was building belonged not to the two of them separately, but rather to them as the same singular being. 

Their voices blended together, arms once again clasped tightly around each other, melting their bodies into a physical representation of the oneness in their joined mind. Together their bodies could not contain the explosion of raw energy that was comprised of joy, beauty, and love, as their one climax exploded from its center, through their bodies, fusing together as one in their minds. Tensing, and relaxing, they rode each wave as it ebbed and flowed into the next, in a joy of release where time stood still.

They were shaky and weak now, shivering as their bodies still tingled from the shock. Clara of course already knew, this was not something he’d ever experienced, anymore than she had. Did they really just do that, did that really happen? Still no ice cream pain. The Doctor gathered her up in a single twisting motion collapsing down with her onto the bed. Each of them at a loss for words, they could only cling to each other in wide-eyed wonder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed chapters 7 and 8. As always, please let me know how you liked it, even if you didn't, and regardless, I appreciate you all giving me the chance here. 
> 
> Depending on the schedule of my editor, I may not have the finaly chapters 9-12 ready by next Friday, but we're gonna try! There's still a lot going on at Paternoster, so please do continue to tune-in if you're liking the story. 
> 
> I forgot to mention, editing to add, Chapters 5, 7, and 8 may have been more M than E, depending on your perspective, but chapter 9 is when the E rating well and truly comes into play. Consider yourself warned. ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to heat up. Now at the end of Act 2, we truly earn the E rating. If that’s not your thing, then it’s safe to read ahead to chapter 10.

“That was…” The Doctor, for once at a loss for words, stared blankly at the ceiling as if the right word might reveal itself there.

“Piano,” He turned his head to find the right answer resting on his shoulder. They could only look at each other and laugh. 

“Yes, piano.” She turned onto her side, burying her head in his chest as he rolled to face her, arms and legs wrapped and entwined around each other. If this proved uncomfortable later on, the normally practical Clara didn’t care.

“It’s true. I fell in love with you the moment you regenerated,” Clara paused, “Took me long enough to figure that out.” She couldn’t help but shudder at the memory, although there was no need to explain why. Her Doctor held her tighter in the only reply that was needed.

Together they drifted into a light sleep. While the Doctor didn’t need as much as she did, there was something to be said for feeling safe, loved, and spent. It was bound to mean less catnaps in the future. He’d actually have to listen when a pudding-brained baddie monologued as to how they were about to botch their own evil plan… Imagine having to be awake while someone came up with a solution that would mean certain death for all involved. 

He chuckled as he gathered her tighter. “Mmm?” Clara murmured hazily.

“Nothing, sleep,” he whispered, still giggling at the thought of the extra peril this sudden increase in sleep was going to cause. Really, all that extra listening due to being awake at the time might prove dangerous.

Clara wasn’t so easily deterred, and at any rate, she was in no way finished with him tonight. She feigned disinterest. “Suit yourself, it’s a poor comedian who laughs at his own jokes.” 

He lifted up his arm to look at the watch he wasn’t wearing, before wrapping it back around her. “Honey,” she shot him a look as he continued in mock sincerity, “Our first fight. As punctual as ever.”

She rose up on her elbow to throw him playful punches as he curled up in surrender at the onslaught. “You don’t ever change, do you? You just have to be you. So much for Doctor Romance!” Clara’s grin betrayed her show of anger. 

“At least I don’t resort to violence!” he squeaked. They were both laughing now as they collapsed into a heap. “And, I am romantic. I should know. I took a quiz.” 

Clara propped herself up to look at him with eyebrow raised. “You took a Cosmo quiz to see if you were romantic?” She often got strange advice from the Doctor, most of which she ignored. But now she was remembering his cryptic reminder to never trust tests in magazines. They let anyone conduct those tests, you didn’t even have to be a scientist, and the results would never stand up to peer review.

“It was in your bag,” She shot him a look normally reserved for students heading for detention.

“It,” he scrambled for words that would mean he’d be in less trouble, “Fell out.” There, he couldn’t be responsible for reading material that was able to leap out of her bag. He regarded her triumphantly, pleased with his alibi.

Clara could only shut her eyes and shake her head. It wasn’t even her stupid magazine. She wasn’t even sure it was Cosmo. It’d been confiscated from a student ages ago, after which she’d promptly forgotten about it. It was pointless telling him that though. She chose a different tack, “I thought we were being honest now.”

“Clara!” he said, shocked, but not enough to wipe the smile off his face, “I’ve been nothing but honest,” he paused, “Tonight.”

This was too easy, really. “You mean like in the shower?” She poked him in the chest, “Or does what accidentally happens to Timelords in showers, stay in showers?” She raised an eyebrow in indication that she was very interested in the answer.

He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it, opened it again, only to end in a duck-faced response to her knowing grin. Nothing slipped past Clara Oswald. Her face broke into a smile. “Gotcha!”

He formed a feral grin as the side of his mouth competed with the attention his furrowed brows commanded. Just as she was wondering what he was up to, he pounced. 

“Oh you think you’ve got me?” he was tickling her mercilessly. It was her turn to curl up, as she doubled over in peals of laughter at his fingers against her side and her stomach. “You can’t get me, Clara Oswald. I always win.” He was rolling over her now as she went with him. Two could play this game and so she gave as good as she got. Timelords could be ticklish too, as she soon discovered. They ended curled up against each other once more as their laughter faded comfortably.

“Seriously though, you can’t make me beg.” The Doctor was staring at the ceiling almost wistfully.

So he went from ‘You can’t get me’ to ‘You can’t make me beg.’ Clara considered this interesting new tell.

“Is that a challenge?”

He looked down at her slyly. “No, because you won’t be able to.” He looked back up at the ceiling as if he was ignoring her.

“Challenge accepted,” She scooted up to his ear, whispering “And are you ever gonna be sorry.”

He smiled kindly, but with an almost haughty air. “That’s so sweet. The innocent little teacher thinks she can make the Timelord beg.” He booped her nose. “That is so very cute, really,” his pout shifted into a slight grin as his eyes hooded. Lifting his face inches from her own, “But she can’t make me beg.” He ended the statement with a kiss before returning his eyes to the ceiling.

“Keep talking, you’ll only make it worse for yourself.” He turned his attention to her, his face the picture of an innocent question mark. She continued, “You’ll definitely need a safe word.” With that, she rose from the bed, going over to their discarded bathrobes. Turning away from him, she squatted down to grab the terry cloth belt from each robe. 

He sat up, resting his head between his locked hands, enjoying the show. “It’s not me who’s going to be needing that safe word.” She turned to face him as she rose, walking back over to the bed. She firmly took one arm, tying the belt gently around his wrist, and the other end to the bedpost. 

“Shut up.” She walked around to the other side of the bed, repeating the process, “You’re not to speak unless spoken to. Is that understood?” He grinned slyly as if it were a dare, as she climbed on top of him. “Tangerine. The safe word is tangerine.” 

He lifted his arms to strain against his confinements. He could break them easily, but he had no intention of spoiling this game. “Nobody likes the tangerines,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “And I hope you remember that safe word, my love, you’ll be needing it later.” Leaning back, he continued, “Because you can’t make me beg.” He was already breathing a little bit harder at the thought of begging her. Oh yes, please make him beg.

Clara swallowed hard at that prospect, but that was for later. For now, it was him that needed teaching. She slapped him lightly across the face, just enough to get his attention. She knew he wouldn’t be expecting that. His look of surprise was quickly overtaken by the flash of his eyes, serving as an unspoken warning that he wouldn’t forget that. She had no intention that he should forget it.

“I said, shut up.” She commanded. He relaxed his demeanor, feigning casual interest as to what she planned to do next. His body was already betraying that casualness, however. He had more control than he did before, but it was still a new body. 

Clara took note of his enjoyment, carefully forming her plan of attack. He had given her one tell clearly on purpose, but he had others. She tested her theory by climbing over him, straddling him carefully so as not to actually be touching. She leant into his body, as if to kiss and explore him, her lips parted. She started at his bound wrist, working slowly across his wiry and deceptively strong arms, shoulders, neck, all the way to the other bound wrist, never once letting her lips actually touch his skin.

Sitting up, she studied what effect purely her breath on his skin had on him. His eyes were still screwed shut, she never expected him to be easy. “Open your eyes,” she quietly commanded. He complied with a look of defiance. “Oh the Timelord looks like he has something to say.” Almost as an afterthought she continued, “You may speak.”

He smiled as if he’d just claimed a victory. “The evil temptress has the mighty Timelord in her clutches,” he strained against his bindings in a show of strength, careful not to break them, “Is that the best she can do? Is that the only trick she has? I fear the Timelord might win the day.” He relaxed again with a grin.

“It’s not the only trick I have, but it may be the only trick I need.” She lifted herself off, sitting up on her knees at his side. “After all, how can you resist,” whispering in his ear, “If you’re not allowed to move?” Clara returned to her position of sitting up, commanding simply, “No matter what I do, you’re not allowed to move. You’re not allowed to move, nor speak. If you do either, I’ll stop.” He didn’t want her to stop, so much was plain. He closed his eyes as he bit down on his tongue.

Noting his response, she repeated the previous trick, only this time in random patterns all over his torso, so that he couldn’t predict where he would almost feel her lips next. Taking her time, she darted from his neck, to his ribcage, to one nipple, his stomach, his hips, neck, the other nipple, stopping from time to time to make sure he was watching, and to command him to do so if he wasn’t. 

With each command, his breathing became more erratic, his eyes smouldered a little bit more. The effect she was having on him wasn’t lost on her. Clara knew she was driving him crazy, and it egged her further on.

Once she had his full attention, she commanded him again, “Do not move.” He knew where she was heading, and was too intent for her to go there, to think of disobeying. Watching with lips parted, he could only take in shallow breaths, as her mouth darted over and around his cock. Careful to avoid actually touching, she moved in as close as she could, adding her tongue to the motion her lips were making. Her hands pressing down on his hips in reminder, as she still otherwise refused to touch him. 

She was so very close to actually tasting him, and he couldn’t choke back the groan that escaped. She lifted herself up to face him. “That was very good. I know how difficult that must’ve been.” He closed his eyes and bit down hard on his lower lip. Of course, he could count on his Clara to be the one to pound his resolve into so much metaphorical dust. He expected nothing less, and yet, the reality was so much more than he could handle.

When he opened his eyes, his pupils were a wide, open book. Clara smiled. “That’s better,” she purred as she kissed him softly. “Do you know what you do to me? Do you have any idea? You force a girl to do things, you know,” She inched away from him, sitting back on his legs. He could only watch in dumb wonder, “Take matters into her own hands.” She kept her eyes locked on his as she trailed her hand slowly down her body, sliding her fingers around her already wet clit. 

The Doctor’s jaw dropped in unabashed surprise and desire, as she arched her back and moaned. His eyes were wide and he needed no command to be quiet. He couldn’t have found the words if he tried. He needed her, he needed to touch her, to be inside her once more. 

Clara could see the power she had over him in his eyes, and that did more to stir her body than anything her own hands could do. She needed him, if he wasn’t going to capitulate, she just might, damn him. She paused, taking control of the situation, “Would you like a taste?” she held out her hand to him, grinning mischievously. This was bolder than she’d ever been, but it felt right. 

“Yes!” Leaning forward, the Doctor pulled her fingers greedily into his mouth. He sucked, licked, and nibbled hungrily, closing his eyes in an absolute ecstasy that took her breath away.

As he reluctantly released her fingers, he remembered he could end this, he just needed to beg. Wasn’t that what he wanted, for his Clara to make him beg? “Please,” he pleaded, “I need you.” The beads of sweat on his forehead were beginning to dampen his hair. He could barely control his voice, he didn’t know or care what he sounded like.

Clara sighed in relief, finally able to gather herself up, “Beg!”

“I am begging.” He swallowed hard, “I beg you, Clara, you possess me. Please!” He was panting now, every bit of his body tense and straining against his own desire. 

“You’ve been such a bad boy tonight,” she pressed her hand against his rapidly dampening chest, moving to position herself over him, “You have teased me beyond all reason. You’ve been daring me to do this, haven’t you? This, right here, is what you really want.” She grabbed his cock as he moaned in anticipation. He was so close to being inside her, but she stopped. He looked up at her in frustration.

“Answer me,” she said in a low, threatening tone.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Say it again.”

He managed in a small, strained voice, “Yes.”

“Louder, or so help me, I will finish myself off and make you watch.”

“YES!” he shouted, swallowing hard, his voice low, “Clara, darling, please…”

“Oh that’s better,” she guided him into her, moaning, “I think I will have the mighty Timelord now.”

“Oh Clara, yes,” was the best the Doctor could manage, as she rode him, rising all the way up the length of him, and back down, grinding into him with increasing roughness as she adjusted to his size. Her eyes were closed now as she completely lost herself to the moment.

She was snapped back to the room by the sound of his voice, barely a whimper, “Clara, I need to touch you, to feel you. Please, my darling, my Clara. Let me touch you.” Wasn’t that what she wanted? She had her fun, was having her fun, but what would it feel like to be possessed by, owned by, the Oncoming Storm? Would he dare? Oh yes, please dare.

“You may break your bonds,” She stated, as the last of her control ebbed away. His arms wrapped around her, grasping, gripping and clawing at her back as she rode him hard. Her own hands tugging at his hair as her lips sought his in hungry kisses. Eventually they settled into a steady rhythm, holding tightly to each other. The Timelord was truly tamed after all.

Or so it seemed, for a few precious seconds. Before she could comprehend what was happening, his arms had moved down to her wrists, grabbing her and pushing her onto the bed. His eyes were on fire as they devoured the sight of her, helpless and about to be completely his. Bending over her, he pinned her arms above her head. 

He regarded her, helpless beneath him, panting heavily with desire. He traced the rapid rise and fall of her stomach lightly with his knuckles, and she shuddered. “That’s better,” he spoke gently, in a way that was contradictory to how he was pinning her down. Pushing her desire to new heights, he continued, “Isn’t this what you really wanted?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He grinned as he turned her own game against her, “Say it again.”

“Yes.” Clara was groaning through gritted teeth now.

“Like you mean it, love,” He smiled before finishing the thought, “I could always go downstairs and catch up with Strax?”

“Yes!” Lifting herself up as much as she could against him, she glared before collapsing helplessly.

“Good girl.” Leaning down to kiss her gently, “Now then,” he continued between kisses, “What was that about my having teased you?” Nibbling at her neck as she moaned, “I got you off,” she sighed at the changed in tone, as he grinned wickedly, “Showed you how to open your mind to me,” he was at her ear, “Made love to you,” she arched up against him, “Meanwhile, you slapped me. And you made me beg.” Clara could only groan in reply.

“Clara, my Clara, remember that safe word,” his voice barely a whisper against her skin before lifting himself up over her, pausing as he waited for her eyes to meet his, “Because now,” holding both her wrists with one hand, brushing the hair from her face with the other, his tone lowering to that rocky gravel she loved so much, “I’m gonna fuck you.” 

She could only gasp in a sound combining her lust with shock as he shifted himself, snakelike above her. Clara had wanted this for so long, she never thought he had this in him. It was deliciously terrifying. “And I won’t be gentle,” he growled as he plowed into her suddenly. 

“Oh yes, fuck me!” Clara shouted, wide-eyed, not caring how she sounded. He smiled savagely as he drove into her hard and deep. She rose to meet his every thrust. His Clara knew how to play, and it wasn’t long before he was thinking of new ways to bend her body around his. 

“Missionary, boring, not me.” She choked out a laugh as he sat up, dragging her to him, momentarily pulling out of her as she moaned in frustration. “Turn around,” he spoke roughly as he helped turn her, chuckling as she automatically bent over submissively on all fours. That ass of hers was just begging to be spanked. Helping himself, he did so, lightly at first. “Do you like that?” 

Clara bent her head down demurely, “Oh yes, Doctor.” She closed her eyes in ecstasy. She’d never let anyone overpower her before, but the Oncoming Storm was so perfectly in-tune to her. It felt so good to relent, letting him take over.

It was all the invitation he needed. He spanked her, increasing his intensity in response to her moans of approval, careful not to do anything that would hurt his Clara or that beautiful ass of hers. He ended in caressing and squeezing it lovingly. Bending over her, he nuzzled against her, speaking into her back, “Oh Clara, you were so good. I’m so proud of you, my darling, my love,” speaking as he left a trail of kisses down her spine.

“Fuck me, Doctor,” she pleaded as her eyes screwed shut. She loved him, loved being completely possessed by him.

“Oh yes,” he said softly, his voice contrasting how he entered her roughly. She cried out as he barely gave her a chance to adjust to him again. It didn’t take long before he was fucking her hard and fast. Their groans and cries meshing together as they settled into a frantic pace. One arm circled her waist as he bent over her, grasping her chest with the other. He lifted her up until she was kneeling, back pressed against his chest. 

This was the contact they craved as she met his every thrust with equal fervor, hot and sweaty, despite his normally cooler Gallifreyan skin. One arm over his, Clara reached down with her free hand to play with herself. “Fuck me, my Clara knows what she wants,” he growled into her shoulder, “Allow me to help,” he moved his hand over hers, pressing their fingers harder into her.

Thrusting harder and faster, oblivious to how the bed strained beneath them, they were lost to the world, with no conscious thought other than each other’s bodies and the waves of pleasure, as the pressure that had been building threatened to explode for them both. 

There was no escape for Clara. She could only concentrate on their hands pressing against her, his cock driving relentlessly into her, at the very edge of pleasure and pain. She was so sensitive, and could feel the telltale tightening and contraction inside her. He was so close, so, so close, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He was coming hard inside her, and she was more aware of the feel of him, than she was his cries and shouts. She wasn’t even aware of what her own voice was doing, other than it was raspy and hoarse. She was gone. The pressure that had been building from her very core bursting and exploding in time with him. 

Together they collapsed onto the bed. Rolling onto his back, the Doctor took her with him, her lying on top as they rode out the last waves of their climax as one.

“I love you,” they both said, laughing sleepily as they shifted position so that he could spoon her. Both completely spent, and wrapped tightly against each other, the impossible alien and his equally impossible girl drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed that, because Clara and the Doctor certainly did. This wraps up Act 2, but please do keep reading. This story does have a surprise or two up its sleeve to leave it just yet.


	10. Chapter 10

The cold sunlight of Christmas morning streamed through the curtains, hitting the Doctor’s eyes as he yawned and stretched. Had he really slept that long? He looked down at his chest and regarded the reason still sleeping there. Everything was bound to be different now, or was it? They would undoubtedly still get annoyed with each other, still bicker, and still banter, which he was totally against. All the while, they’d still see planets, and all the beauty and wonder in time and space. 

The difference would be in the freedom this new honesty provided. Free to experience joy, as well as the pain that went with it. No longer alone, the pain so familiar to him could be better faced now that they were both free to express their true feelings. Feelings, that word didn’t have to be a scary thing. Fear of the finite, that would be ever-present. The finite was an unknown quantity, but that fear was the cause of so many regrets. Humans lived in the finite, facing it with equanimity. 

He’d thrown in his lot with humans, with this little human in particular. Couldn’t he then too, draw on her strength, face that fear with the bravery he so admired of humanity? With her help, he could push down that wall, and remember how to, once again, live in the now. There was too much good in the universe, to keep that joy walled up any longer.

Feeling his hand absent-mindedly tracing patterns on her arm, Clara wrapped it tightly around him and stretched. Reaching up bleary-eyed, she kissed his cheek and murmured, “Merry Christmas, Doctor.”

Taking her hand and kissing it, he replied softly “Merry Christmas, Clara, my Clara.” She grinned as she nuzzled into his neck. The ambience of a typical Christmas morning wafted over them as they enjoyed the stillness; footfalls on the stairs, and down the hallway, voices speaking indecipherable good cheer, the smell of a Christmas dinner that they both hoped was traditional. At least it likely was, given Jenny and Strax. Listening to the sounds of a normal Christmas where nothing happened. 

The sounds of Christmas. Sounds. Together, their eyes were drawn to the source of the promising smells of Christmas dinner, the large vents above the bed. The Doctor looked down at Clara, as she looked up at him through mirrored expression. Eyebrows high and eyes wide, their mouths went slack at the sudden realization. If they could hear the sounds of Christmas morning, then… If they’d hoped to keep this private, that hope was gone. It was done, it happened, and everyone heard it. 

All they could do was collapse in laughter. Wrapping their arms around each other tightly, there was nothing for it other than to laugh and laugh, between exclamations of “Oh no!” and “Your face!” Whenever one stopped, the facial expression of the other would only serve to set them off all over again.

Their laughter finally under control, the Doctor raked his hand across his face, “Well then…”

“So, that happened.” 

He grabbed her and pulled her in for a tight hug, “It most certainly did.” He looked back down at her, as they both giggled, threatening to erupt into an outright laughing fit all over again.

They reluctantly parted as their muscles screamed that it was time to get up. Not bothering with his robe, the Doctor sauntered over to see what he could scrounge up in the wardrobe. Clara slipped on hers, and grabbed a belt from the bedpost with a smirk. Stepping up behind him, she spanked him playfully. 

He hopped a bit, but wasn’t overly surprised, “Don’t start what you can’t finish, Oswald.” He looked down at her with a grin and a wink. 

“You’re terrible,” She said, shuffling over to curl up in the big comfy chair, still a little bit too groggy to fully realize what he already knew.

“You started it,” he complained lightly as he slipped on a pair of trousers. He was going to need another wash, but at least he had something to wear back out to the Tardis. It was more than he could say for the Boss, still blissfully unaware, staring into middle distance in his chair.

“Your fault, you could’ve chosen to not have such a nice ass when you regenerated.” Clara looked around the room as her mind cleared. She needed coffee, or tea, in the morning and had neither. Especially after a night like that, impossible in so many different ways. 

He shrugged, “It’s a lottery. If I actually had a choice, I’d be ginger. Always wanted to be ginger…” His voice trailed off wistfully as he searched for a suitable shirt. 

“Kinda glad you didn’t get a say then,” she really should get dressed too… Oh. She frowned. 

He smirked knowingly as he tossed on a shirt, “What was that you were saying about not needing any Christmas jumpers?”

“Shut up.” She stretched as she got up, no time like the present, nothing for it, really. The coast sounded clear. She’d ask the Doctor to come with her, but his idea of help would only end up being the opposite of help. With any luck, she could make it to the room that she was pretty sure would still be stocked with those beautiful dresses, and avoid awkward questions, at least before she was dressed and ready to face them.

Putting her ear to the door and hearing nothing, Clara took a deep breath. The Doctor tucked in his shirt as quickly as he could, watching her from the mirror. There was no time for anything better, but he’d set that right one day soon, if she liked. Clara felt his hand grab for hers as he spun her around to face him.

Already caught off guard, her eyes widened as he slipped off his ring. He smiled sheepishly, “This isn’t the way I planned it, but when is it ever?”

“You planned…”

“Shut up,” He licked his lips nervously, holding the ring up to her. “This ring is a memento, in memory of all my companions. A reminder of the good times we shared. I thought it was lost, but I found it after I regenerated. I trust you with this.” He was serious and sincere, but he couldn’t control his face slipping into a foolish grin as he slid the ring onto her index finger. 

It was difficult to ask a question when you didn’t know what the question was. She already knew his name, they’d practically eloped. “Will you marry me? No, that’s not the question.” By his own traditions, they were married, it didn’t take much, a simple matter of a link and intent. It was time to wait for her. “The question is,” His thought process trailed off, and his voice took over.

“Clara Oswald, would you do me the honor of looking after this ring, until such time as you’d rather have one of your own?” His choice was made, it was time to let Clara make hers. 

Clara was dumbfounded. Her heart felt like it was ready to burst, but really, weren’t they already married? Still, it would be nice to do this with some semblance of normalcy, like a normal couple. Her cheeks flushed as she unceremoniously blurted out “I expect you to properly ask. I want to be surprised,” she inwardly cringed at herself, but decided to press on.

The Doctor opened his mouth to interject. She was so romantic when she was practical. He could tell her of a planet where they…

“In a completely normal way.”

“There’s this planet where they…”

“We’ll discuss what normal is later.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he pouted as she pursed her lips. He’d explain later how he was married to her already. Much later, as in after she married him, maybe. It didn’t really matter. “I’m having this ring back!”

“You know where I live,” She spoke softly, touched not only at the moment, but at his complete trust. It spoke more of his affection for her, than the question itself. The Doctor would always have her back. 

“That I do,” he agreed in a solemnity that would be easier to believe, could he have kept a straight face. With that, she leapt up into his arms as he met her in a tight embrace. He would indeed be getting his ring back soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can supply a link regarding the story behind the Doctor’s ring, if you don’t already know it and would like to read more. 
> 
> Fans of humor, banter, Victorian poetry, the Doctor Who episodic formula, classic who, and the idea of what-ifs in origin stories may enjoy Chapter 11. The only way you’ll know is to check it out. ;)


	11. Chapter 11

“Well? Go on. Unless you’re just wearing that for the day. I don’t think Vastra would mind,” the Doctor teased, breaking the hug and kissing her on the forehead. They’d have plenty to answer for eventually, but at least let poor Clara get dressed first. Poor Clara, now there was a funny thought that had him laughing to himself all over again.

Poor Clara, meanwhile, rolled her eyes and listened as best she could against the door. Hearing nothing, she opened it gently and tiptoed down the hallway. Victory was nearly hers as she made the last few steps into the bedroom. 

“Good morning, Clara. How pleased we are to find you spending Christmas with us. I trust you slept well?” 

Clara grimaced as she pulled up short. “Merry Christmas, Madame Vastra, Jenny.” She nodded to Jenny, who was busily laying out some suitable clothes. She had such wonderful taste.

“Merry Christmas, Miss Oswald. It sounded very merry indeed,” Jenny interjected, not even trying to hide her smirk. Vastra shot her an unheeded warning glance before shifting her focus back to Clara, who was busy recoiling with her eyes screwed shut. At least Vastra wasn’t wearing a veil.

“You’ll no doubt wish to draw a bath,” Vastra continued as she rose from her chair, Clara’s cheeks in flames. “We had an ensuite installed.” She motioned to the closed door, “An indulgence to be sure, but” She waved her hand as she searched for the appropriate turn of phrase, “We considered it payment for…”

“Services rendered.” Jenny finished the phrase, Vastra flashing her a smile.

“Yes, services rendered. A pity you couldn’t find it last night. I would have been happy to help.”

“Oi!” Jenny scowled, and swatted Vastra. While they were adorable, this was too embarrassing. Clara and the Doctor had been beyond selfish, showing up unannounced, keeping everyone awake. It couldn’t have been worse had they blasted some Marvin Gaye or Barry White from an open Tardis door, the mental image would’ve made her laugh in any other circumstance. 

Vastra hissed at Jenny, refocusing Clara’s attention. “I’m just trying to show our guest some hospitality, my dear.” Jenny shot Vastra a look, and sighed in exasperation.

“Vastra, Jenny, I’m really sorry. It was a…” She scowled to herself, “Long story.” In fairness, it was a long story, a really long story.

“Which I’m sure you’ll regale us with over dinner,” Vastra continued, as she moved to the door. “Jenny, if you’d come with me, I need your help with…”

“Art, ma’am?” Jenny smirked.

“Excellent idea, yes, I need your help with some art.” They each moved to exit, and Clara could finally breathe a sigh of relief. That didn’t go too badly after all. 

That was, until Vastra got in one last word, “That’s a nice ring, Clara. Gallifreyan, I presume? I should’ve believed you when you said you could flirt with a mountain. That lake sounded nearly flooded last night,” she smiled knowingly as Clara titled her head to the side. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Vastra was good, Clara had to give her that. The Doctor gave her his ring for safekeeping, to signify the change in their relationship. As far as the Doctor and Clara were concerned, if you spoke to one, you spoke to the other. Still, Clara felt terrible they had kept Vastra and Jenny up all night. And, “What about Strax?”

Vastra huffed, turning at the door to face her, “We were able to convince him that the emergency going on in there was not medical in nature, and did not require his assistance,” She grinned sweetly. Clara screwed her eyes shut again, failing to notice when Vastra nearly bumped into the Doctor on her way out.

The Doctor looked as sheepish as Clara felt, “Merry Christmas, Vastra,” he said, nodding somewhat stiffly as he glanced to Clara for help. “I hope…”

“She knows, Doctor,” Clara sighed.

“Oh.” He was at a loss for words.

Vastra smiled up at him in genuine happiness, “You are most welcome here anytime, Doctor, and do join us for dinner,” she said, leaving them to themselves.

He closed the door to offer Clara some privacy as she began looking over the outfit Jenny chose, with approval. “Still, could’ve gone worse,” he said through raised eyebrows and a tight grin.

“Yes, she could’ve served me for dinner!” Clara laughed.

He returned her laugh, but there was something that puzzled him. “What was that she said about flirting with a mountain?”

Clara looked up, so he heard that. “It was after you regenerated. You’d never explained how it worked, and I handled it… Well, you saw how I handled it.” She had met other versions of the Doctor, but it was the process of regeneration which proved to be so jarring.

He smiled sadly, “That was my fault. Clara, I didn’t think…”

She interrupted, “No, it’s okay, it’s fine.” She hurried on, “She said I may as well flirt with a mountain, assumed my head was only turned by pretty young men,” Clara shrugged, “I set her straight.”

“You mean…”

“You saw it last night.” She smiled, “And I told you as much.”

He lowered his head and chuckled, “You did,” he went on, “We could have saved ourselves a lot of trouble.” Seeing it in the mind’s eye was one thing, her saying it was another. Hearing it stated as historic fact, a conversation that actually took place at the time, was something else entirely.

“We weren’t ready. Neither of us was ready. It was all too much.” Clara moved to face him, taking his hand and speaking in her resolute manner, “Remember last night, yeah? Everything that brought us here, it’s fixed now. Take out one piece, and the entire building crumbles.” She smiled up at him, giving his hand a squeeze.

Clara Oswald could practically be a Timelord herself, or Timelady, if she was old fashioned. “Am I still only one of your hobbies?” he smiled softly.

“Yes,” She reached up on her tiptoes to kiss his nose as he scrunched it up. “But you’re my favorite hobby.” She smiled as he pulled her in for a kiss. “Now then, I’m going to have another wash, and we are going to enjoy Christmas. Just like a normal couple,” she smiled knowingly at his realization that she heard that too. “And we’re going to have a lovely time.” 

He was going to have to socialize, maybe even banter. His smile faded to a petulant frown. Rolling his eyes, he pouted. “Fine!”

“It was your idea too!”

“I would have gone anywhere with a bed, Clara!” he shot back at her, knowing full well it was his idea. It didn’t mean he had to admit it.

It was her turn to roll her eyes, mimicking him, “Goooo, I’ll see you downstairs.” 

He flashed her a smile, bending down to give her one more peck on the cheek, before heading to the window.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Turning his head towards her, he motioned to the window, “Door? Boring? Not me?”

“Door. Normal. For today at least, completely you.”

“Yes… Boss.” He darted out the room quickly before she could throw something at him.

She could only shake her head and laugh as she heard him exclaim, bounding down the stairs, “Strax! Merry Christmas. How is my favorite potato this fine morning?” No, nothing much was going to change after all, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

* * *

Clara should’ve known it was going to be a long day when Strax offered her a medical exam, to check that the ‘Mating rituals and ensuing copulation’ had been successful. Avoiding Strax was taking up most of the morning, and where was the Doctor, anyway? With Jenny busying herself with dinner preparations, and Vastra busying herself with a game of surprise mistletoe, Clara resolved that she better find the Doctor before they noticed his absence, or he blew up the house. 

A tiny panic began to erupt in her head as she wandered down some, until now, unseen stairs. This was unfamiliar territory, littered with Silurian technology, and evidence of interrogation techniques that Clara would just as soon not know about. He was bound to be here somewhere, finding trouble. 

The sound of the sonic, followed by a small bang and an explosion of steam billowing out of an open door was her first clue. The Doctor was soon clamoring out through the steam, pointing his sonic at the source of the explosion. “Not to worry! Don’t panic, I’ve just about,” glancing her horrified look out the corner of his eye, before returning his attention back through the open door, “Got it!”

“Why does this always happen? Why can’t you just leave well enough alone?”

Gesturing at the source of the dissipating steam, he asked incredulously, “Clara, what kind of guest would I be if I didn’t make myself useful?” he tsked, “Really, your manners.”

“My manners? Seriously?” She was at his side now, surveying the very obvious, newly repaired welds of the burst pipes. “Doctor?”

“Clara?”

“Was it like that before?”

He looked sideways at her, “Maybe.”

“Try again.”

He sighed “I may have made one or two slight improvements,” he looked at her face as it did that trick where it widened, and hurried on. “But I fixed it!” He motioned his hands, pointing to himself, “I’m the Doctor, I’m here to help.” He scratched the back of his head thoughtfully, “I think I have a badge somewhere with that written on it.”

She closed her eyes and counted to three. “Is it fixed now, whatever it is?”

“I think it’s best that neither of us asks what ‘it’ is,” He slumped his shoulders in relief, “And yes, it’s fixed. But there’s some other stuff I noticed.” Clara had a choice. She could drag him away now, or they could go snooping together. The devilish grin he was giving her was terrible. She laughed and let him lead the way. 

Finding their way through the cellar area proved to take up the entire afternoon. The more they explored the more questions the Doctor had. He was dumbfounded at the discovery of the charred remains of a molecular disperser. Charred, but potentially operable. Was Vastra repairing it? No, that didn’t make sense. The sonic lanterns were just begging to be taken apart and played with as well, but he set them down reluctantly at the look of consternation coming from the Boss.

There had to be some reasonable explanation for the contents of Vastra’s cellar. It was Clara who reminded the Doctor that sometimes you have to trust your friends. He couldn’t find fault with that argument, so he contented himself with simply explaining to Clara what he knew about molecular dispersers. Vastra could well be keeping it guarded, therefore protecting the planet. It was the only explanation that made sense, and so it was, that they made their return. Luckily their absence had only just been noticed, having made it just in time for a thankfully traditional Christmas dinner.

* * *

Dinner proved to be interesting, beginning with Strax’s unceremonious offer to check the Doctor’s virility, as the Doctor was in the midst of his first bite. Clara nearly choked on her wine as he lowered his fork back to the plate, mumbling a kind decline of the offer. Vastra and Jenny were no help at all, as Strax obliviously gobbled down his meal and headed out to the stable to ‘Not melt the new groom in acid.’

Dinner continued, with the usual Christmas cheer, and friendly banter. Jenny was happy to serve dessert, though not without constant eye rolls directed at Vastra. The Doctor and Clara regaled the duo with stories from their adventures together up until now. Continually finding themselves in chains was a topic of much amusement to Vastra, for reasons seemingly unfathomable by the Doctor, and earning a “Don’t look at me,” with a shrug and a nod towards him, by Clara.

Vastra prided herself on her skills of perception and deduction, but she did not see this coming. She never thought she would see it again with the Doctor in her lifetime, and yet, there it was. They were so very alike. It was a wonder that she missed it before.

Both of them were keeping some elements of their story hidden. Then again, there should always be some secrets shared only between one another. She caught Jenny’s eye and winked, Jenny returning a smirk in reply. “There’s one question you haven’t answered, Doctor.” 

He met her gaze openly enough, “Question? What question was that?”

“How did you enjoy discovering all the many, and varied uses of a bedroom?” The wine made her bold, but for all his bluster, this version of the Doctor, she decided, was quite approachable. Clara had clearly been giving him hell.

Not missing a beat, he leaned forward, “No, that’s not the question. The question is, why did you give me a key?” He smiled playfully, glancing at Jenny, “I seem to remember, if it weren’t for me, you’d never have met her,” Vastra sat back and nodded with a smile. She was never going to goad the Doctor. She owed him too much and he knew it. Clara, meanwhile, sat back and tried to imagine which version of the Doctor it was. Not the one beside her now, but was it her chinboy, the flirty one, or one of his other forms? 

Another question for another time, for now was time for Christmas crackers. She leaned forward excitedly as Jenny gingerly placed the crackers on the table. She’d never having seen a Victorian cracker before, not that she could remember anyway. 

She was about to pick up the one nearest to study when she noticed the Doctor casting a sidelong glance her way, instead opting to give his hand a squeeze. Vastra couldn’t help but spot another shared secret between them. Her curiosity nearly got the better of her, but she recovered quickly as Jenny readied their cracker. She’d planned a surprise that would surely have Jenny’s full attention.

The Doctor and Clara pulled their cracker open with a loud pop, and he got the longer end. Like a kid in a candy store when he won anything, he grabbed for the lovely feminine locket, small candies, and little poem. Raising an eyebrow, Clara wondered when or if he was going to notice.

All he cared about was getting a funny joke. He liked the funny jokes. Sure they were bad, but what good was all this ceremony if you couldn’t enjoy a joke so bad it was funny? He scanned the page eagerly as his face fell. He cleared his throat and read aloud.

> _Jenny, my love rang true! for still_
> 
> _Love at first sight is vague, until_
> 
> _That tinkling makes him audible._
> 
>   
> 
> 
> _And must I mock you to the last,_
> 
> _Ashamed of my own shame,—aghast_
> 
> _Because some thoughts not born amiss_
> 
> _Rose at a poor fair face like this?_
> 
> _Well, of such thoughts so much I know:_
> 
> _In my life, as in hers, they show,_
> 
> _By a far gleam which I may near,_
> 
> _A dark path I can strive to clear._

“Well that isn’t funny at all, and oddly specific,” he scowled.

Jenny cracked up and blushed as Vastra surreptitiously grabbed for the locket, clasping it around Jenny’s neck. “Merry Christmas, my love,” she said, with a lingering kiss for a Jenny not really used to such extravagances.

Clara, meanwhile, was wide-eyed, trying to elbow the Doctor. Didn’t he know that poem? Didn’t anyone know the poem? The Doctor looked down his beak at her, the very picture of a confused owl. All she could do was sit back, and down the remainder of her wine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The excerpt in the cracker, is from a poem called “Jenny” by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Clara’s reaction will become clear in Chapter 12. If you’d like to know more, you’ll have to read on. :)
> 
> If you’d like to know more about the Silurian tech mentioned, as well as Vastra and Jenny’s origin story, let me know, and I can give you some links. I hope everyone enjoyed the mini-episode there in the cellar.


	12. Chapter 12

The Doctor was true to his word when it came attempting a normal Christmas. To his credit, he really did try. He could make a real nuisance of himself though. One moment, he would be sitting by Clara’s side, playing the part of the witty guest. The next moment, he was gone, only to return later looking slightly more disheveled than he had previously, wearing a look of practiced innocence, and generally being the world’s worst house guest. 

Vastra and Jenny wouldn’t have him be anything other than who he was. Despite his seeming impatience for social gatherings he could be charming when he wanted to be. It was thanks to him, in fact, that Vastra and Jenny had a new favorite Christmas carol. 

He surprised them all, including himself, when he discovered he could play piano. While the piano skills were a shock, his ability, or inability, to remember lyrics, was just shocking. No matter how much Clara insisted, he could not retain that it was “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,” and not “Roast your chestnuts on an open fire,” which he sang in an otherwise beautiful voice that managed to be both rocky and naturally resonant. Funny as his lyrics were, Clara was determined that she would hear more of his voice in the future. It really was a thing of wonder.

“Well that explains why Mel tried to punch me. I thought it had something to do with Marilyn,” he shuddered at the memory of his harrowing escape, from Marilyn more-so than Mel. He shrugged, “But I like my version better.” Vastra and Jenny certainly did.

Clara wasn’t even surprised. After all, he had a band with Marcus Aurelius on bass, Buddy Holly singing, Jane Austen on guitar, and Shakespeare on drums. No wait, he’d probably say not to be silly. Shakespeare was a terrible drummer. Marilyn Monroe was his groupie, why not? All she could do, all you could ever do with the Doctor, was laugh. 

As the evening wore on, he finally ran out of things to not fix, and songs to not remember, and was getting bored. It was best to leave him be when he got like this, so Clara ignored him when he last disappeared, continuing her visit with Vastra and Jenny unheeded. It wasn’t until she perceived the change in them that she turned her head slightly, to find him sitting at the other end of the couch, just staring at her. 

This was embarrassing, even for him. Willing him with eye rolls and hand waves was an exercise in futility, as she tried in vain to continue her conversation with Vastra and Jenny. Maybe it was time to head back… home. The Doctor, feeling the shift in her, got up with an unceremonious “Bye,” already heading out to the Tardis.

Not even angry, she rose to make her excuses to Vastra and Jenny, but she needn’t have bothered, they understood completely. They were among some of the best allies he was ever bound to have. Clara promised to keep giving him hell, and with a hug for each of them, she headed quickly back to the Tardis herself, glad to have a new Christmas tradition to look forward to when not saving planets.

* * *

By the time she reached the Tardis, the Doctor was under the console, the red of his waistcoat visible between the mess of wires, fusing connections for who knew what. The Doctor paused his fiddling to ask her where to next. Clara wanted to grab some needful things from her flat, but that could wait. She shrugged, “How about somewhere with a beautiful view.” 

Busy hunting the bookshelves, she didn’t catch the devilish raise of his eyebrows at the mention of a beautiful view, before he punched in the coordinates to drift in space. He knew just the place, a place she would find spectacular, that they could explore later. 

Having found the book of poems she was after (Perhaps the Tardis didn’t mind her so much anymore?), Clara barely took notice when he returned to fusing connections under the console. Tardis Life had taught her to drown out the inevitable snapping and sparking that went along with such projects. For now, she had a project of her own.

Vastra had undoubtedly chosen the excerpt from that poem in the Christmas cracker based on its title, “Jenny”. Clara remembered it well, having herself written a paper on it. At the time, she took a hardline view against its misplaced Victorian ideals. While she loved the speaker’s attempt to understand the object of his affection, the speaker both objectified, judged, and forgave a passive subject with no voice of her own. She loved that it pointed to a waking social justice, but yet it was also steeped in the misogyny of the time.

It was why she was so surprised at dinner. Yes, Vastra and Jenny kept the pretense of mistress and maid more than was strictly necessary, but she always viewed them as more equal than the poem would suggest. Vastra did choose a rather poignant passage though, and only Clara had seemed to mind the choice of the poem itself. 

Always one to cast a critical eye, and eager to learn, Clara resolved to approach the poem from a fresh perspective. What she found in her re-read was a poem fraught with the same problems she found before, but with a love there she wasn’t previously willing to see. It wasn’t a perfect love, but it was there, and it was true. Snapping the book shut, she leaned against the rail, watching her own imperfect poem toiling away below the console.

Like the poem in the book, she loved him from the start, and also like the poem, she had too quickly decided he wasn’t right for her. In her case, it had been mistaking love for addiction. What was it that made love different from addiction? 

Love was a positive force, it made you want to be better. Addiction was one-dimensional and all-consuming, leaving you drained and empty. No, it was never addiction between them. She never felt drained or empty with the Doctor. No, she felt full, and complete. 

She chided her grey-haired alien stick insect for his faults, but the truth of the matter was they were too alike in all the ways that mattered. What a strange trip they had to take in order to fully realize that. Now that it was realized, she wasn’t about to squander the second chance she’d been given.

In an effort to get his attention, Clara stretched luxuriously as she pulled an ostentatious fake yawn. She didn’t really think that would work, and it didn’t. The Doctor continued fusing wires together, in his own little world. She cleared her throat a few times, each time increasing the volume, until the last time saw her actually scratching her throat.

“Are you coming down with a cold?” the Doctor finally asked, wires popping and sparking around him. His attention was still fixed on the problem at hand. Immersed in his work, he failed to notice her eyes widen in annoyance. 

“No, I don’t have a cold, but I am suddenly very… tired.” Deciding to up the game, she pressed on. “Ok then, that’s me off to bed.” She made her way a few steps down the corridor, still eliciting no response at all from him other than a mumbled reply to sleep well.

Her blood started to boil a bit once she was at her door, she stomped back down the corridor. “Aren’t you tired?” 

“You know I don’t need much sleep, and I got plenty of it last night. I’ll be on a full tank for months.” The Doctor replied offhandedly, not even bothering to look up.

“Oh, I think you’re tired.”

“I’m really not.”

The wheels in his head finally started to turn in the right direction. Was she angry? Why was his sleep suddenly a concern? Was she talking about sleeping? He really needed a manual. “I am?”

“Yes, you are!” She nearly stomped her foot in frustration, opting instead to cross her arms, she commanded, “Do as you are told.” 

Unable to detect any movement from him, Clara threw up her hands in frustration and marched back to her room. The more things changed, the more they really did stay the same. 

She got as far as halfway when she noticed the sound of footsteps behind her. Resolving to ignore him, she continued to her room. Two could play that game. She got as far as the door when an arm against the wall prevented her from going further. He thought he was going to get away with that? She’d been rejected in favor of the Tardis. Boys and their toys.

She wheeled to face him, annoyed at his apparent lack of interest. Whatever witty comeback she had planned evaporated at the the sight of his hooded eyes, aflame with desire. She wasn’t prepared for that. At a loss for words, she watched as he pressed past her, opening the door and sauntering into the room with a Timelord swagger that made her nerves spark. 

Pausing and turning, he leaned in close, his eyes fixed on hers. In a low, rumbling gravel that took her breath away, he whispered softly, “Yes, Boss.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire), was mostly written by Mel Tormé, who had a fling with Marylin Monroe. I can supply the research on that if you like, though it's easy enough to look up.
> 
> The response to this has been nothing short of humbling. I’m not kidding when I said I thought maybe if I could get three people to like it, that would be amazing. Whether you read the entire thing, or just the bits you liked, I’m glad you gave it a chance.
> 
> I can tell you right now, that yes there are going to be at least two more stand-alone parts. While they do stand alone, they fit very well into this timeline. There’s a couple lose ends in Chapter 12 that point in that direction.

**Author's Note:**

> I’d like to thank @apocalyptic-scenes for her tireless work in editing this monster. If not for her, we’d be in verb-tense, repeated word, typo hell. Head to Tumblr and give her your follows.
> 
> And please, let me have your honest feedback. This may be my first attempt at writing, but I prefer honesty even if its brutal. But if you love it, that’s fine by me too. :) I truly did love writing it. You can find me here and on Tumblr if you have questions, comments, concerns. I loved writing it so you can bet I love talking about it.
> 
> It’s not the last DW work I have planned by a long way.


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